Her cheeks were aflame. “I had a visit from Sir John in my rooms,” she said. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. Wood had prevented him from paying much attention to the previous scene. " Spurlock grew limp in his chair. ‘You know about that?’ ‘It was the only possible deduction. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement.
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