But it is my fault. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. Both arm-chairs had been moved a little so as to face each other on either side of the fender, and in the circular glow of the green-shaded lamp there lay, conspicuously waiting, a thick bundle of blue and white papers tied with pink tape. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. ‘Why don’t you?’ Melusine frowned at him, grasping the dagger more firmly. "Mr.
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