Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. A black-garbed figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. “You were seen to leave the flat, and your handkerchief was found there. "How old are you?" demanded Miss Prudence. ‘You know about that?’ ‘It was the only possible deduction. Hey. ” Annabel rose and followed her sister from the room.
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