I was sure you could not have the heart to slay a child—an innocent child. A sinister thought edged in. Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. ‘Stay, Saling!’ The butler halted, looking round enquiringly. While Lady Bicknacre had never trusted Valade. But the fall was too great, and he abandoned the attempt. ‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. The lips of the mask twisted upward into a smile. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness.
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