” Drummond shook his head in melancholy fashion. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. He did not disturb any of this litter, but left it as a mark of his prowess. ’ He nodded in the direction of her pistol. And now you must go back, take up your work and think all this over. Mr.
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