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"I have an excellent excuse," interrupted David, rising. "Are you speaking about the lunch room?" she asked in a pleasant contralto voice. "I can show you where it is, but you'll have to bring your lunch with you. There are gas stoves to cook on in the back room, and tables and chairs in the front one, if you're not too late to get a place." "Indeed you did no such thing," retorted Etwald, coolly. "My story is quite different to that of Dido.".

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"I expect him at noon along with Inspector Arkel. Then I may force the truth out of him. Certainly I shall have him arrested on suspicion of murder." "And what about me?" said David. "You forget that I am a third player. Come, Etwald, you have prophesied about Maurice; now read my fate." "What do you mean, John Moore, by daring, daring to think you can go and take Billy away from me?" I demanded, looking at him with what must have been such fear and madness in my face that he was startled as he came close to the table against which I leaned. His face had grown white and quiet at my attack, and he waited to answer for a long horrible minute that pulled me apart like one of those inquisition machines they used to torture women with when they didn't know any better modern way to do it. "Dead!" wailed Isabella, catching at the word, "Maurice dead!".