The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. The pearls were really yours?" "They were left to me by my mother. Tom swore he hadn't set eyes on him since the trial. He stared at the woman depicted thereon for a long moment, awe in his head. ToC Mrs. Only a book detective could dope this out. ” “You didn’t.
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