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"I know, I know--the devil-stick perfume." Patricia followed her into the big, clay-soiled, dusty room, clutching her new smooth wooden tools with nervous fingers. "I don't believe you know the answer to your own riddle," he said calmly..
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Mrs. Dallas fell back on the sofa, with a white face. Dido laughed in a guttural fashion, and shrugged her shoulders contemptuously. "Oh!" said Maurice, his thoughts flying back to the mysterious influence which he had seen Etwald exercise over Dido. "And what was the doctor saying?" "Well, no, major. On second thought I do not think it is wise to couple those two words as yet. The thief may not be the murderer, and--but what can I say?" broke off Etwald, suddenly. "As yet we know nothing. It is late, now, major, and I must get back. Shall I give information to the police?" "You'll know everything to-morrow.'.
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