. My wife—killed me. He must win this man's confidence, even at the risk of being called mad. Courtlaw, is it not,” she remarked, with lifted eyebrows. "I can't say," answered the fellow; "but I'll inquire from the sexton, William Morgan. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. “Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?” She steeled herself, refusing to react. She lay still for a long time, and her mind resumed at a more tolerable pace.
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