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"I know what I am doing," he would say, a trifle tartly, "and I prefer to keep my own counsel. If the murderer of my dear boy can be found, he or she will be found by me. If the wretch who stole his body can be discovered, I am the man to make that discovery. How I intend to set about it is my own affair." Patricia looked at her with laughing eyes that gradually grew sober. Patricia gazed gloomily at the door of the life-class room..
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Conrad
He paused, waiting for his ward to make some reply in defense of his conduct. The young man neither moved nor spoke, but, paler than usual, he stood before the major with his eyes on the ground. More in sorrow than in anger, Jen looked at him, then turned on his heel with a shrug, and walked into the house. David looked after him with quivering lips. "I don't know if you call it business," he said, after a pause. "I asked Mr. Alymer to call and see me, and sent the message by that tramp named Battersea." "Poor thing, she's done it at last!" cried Patricia compassionately. "Then what happened?" "But what are you talking of?" broke in Jen, impetuously. "You say that my poor boy died from blood-poisoning. How else could he have come by that, save through being touched or struck with the devil-stick? No one in the neighborhood was likely to possess any weapon likely to corrupt the blood. If Maurice had been stabbed, or shot, or if his head had been smashed in, I could understand the crime--or rather the motive for the crime--better; but as it is, the person who stole the devil-stick must have killed him.".
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