” “Your sister,” he answered, “did me the honour of dining with me last night. It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. ‘Say then, Jacques, you have followed him?’ she demanded of the blackgarbed footman. I don’t feel it. “I wonder,” she murmured to herself, “if this is the beginning.
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