You heard her. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. Treading with noiseless step over the soft mould, they soon reached the building. " "Are you ready?" said Trenchard, striding towards the door. You're in luck to-night, widow. Mrs. Both, perhaps?’ At that, her eyes darkened with fury. "Tomorrow I shall have a visitor.
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