The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. “Excuse me a moment. If I were a clean, free man—We’ll have to talk of all these things. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. The unknown, previously so attractive, now presented another face—blank. ‘Hilary was right.
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