The door to the room in question was closed. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. ‘Well, this maid,’ went on Kimble eagerly, ‘and me, we gets to talking, see, and that’s how I knew he were off to this party. Friday was not a big dinner night at the Beck house. " "A queer case;" and the doctor passed on. ” He snarled. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters.
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