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"It won't be the name of Battersea," said Jen, touching the button of the bell. "He had no motive to steal my devil-stick or to kill Maurice, nor could he have any reason to take possession of a dead body. Besides," added Jen, returning to his seat, "if this tramp were guilty, he would scarcely put his neck in danger by offering you the devil-stick for sale." "It is not a woman, but a man. Battersea!" "The assassin--you know the assassin? Who is he or she?".
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Conrad
He dropped her hand at the obsequious voice of the waiter at his elbow. All through that long night he knelt beside the bed upon which lay the corpse of the man whom he had loved as a son. The bedroom of Maurice was on the ground floor and the windows looked out onto a little lawn, which was girdled by thick trees in which the nightingales were singing. The sorrowful songs of the birds, flitting in the moonlight and amid the cloistral dusk of the trees, seemed to Jen like a requiem over the young life which had passed away. The major was broken-hearted by the sorrow which had come upon him, and when he issued from the chamber of death he looked years older than when he entered it. It seemed to his big loving heart as though the woman he loved had died anew in the person of her son. "Why?" said Etwald, with an agreeable smile. "There are two opinions about that. Mine is that I shall go free. Then," he added, coolly, "I intend to seek Barbadoes and search for that black witch in order to recover the Voodoo stone." Elinor smiled and pulled Patricia down beside her on the stool..
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