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He was half-clothed, pale as the white dress of Isabella Dallas, and evidently, from the wild look in his eyes and the quivering of his nether lip, badly scared. Stopping short a few paces from the door, he held up the lamp which he carried, to survey the astonishing scene before him. The sight of Jen tongue-tied and immovable, of Isabella weeping on her knees by the bedside, of the bed itself vacant of its dead occupant--all these things were calculated to shock even stronger nerves than those of David Sarby. Nevertheless, after a pause of sheer astonishment, he managed to stammer out a question: "I shall tell you all about it to-morrow," answered Jen, soothingly, and led her out of the room. "At the present moment you must go home with Mr. Sarby. David, there is a loose cloak of mine in the hall. Wrap it round her and come into the library. It is best that she should leave in the way she came." "Battersea!" cried Jen, thunderstruck. "Did he see the body carried off?".
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Conrad
"I can arrest you on suspicion," said Arkel, rising with his warrant, "and I arrest you now in the Queen's name." "To tell you the truth, my dear major, and I assure you that the truth will surprise you not a little." "Certainly! About an hour and a half before he was murdered." "Good Lord, Miss Dallas! You here? At this hour!".
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