’ A sudden clatter of booted feet sounded in the hall beyond. It was enough. Thames Darrell MUST die. That added to his puzzle. "Try fifty pounds more," said Jonathan. "I witnessed the bet. ‘You must have been an exceedingly good pupil. ” Manning tapped with his racket on the turf through some moments of silence. " The girl's blood ran warmly for a minute. ” He seemed bored. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. On his return to the room, Jonathan purposely left the door of the Well Hole ajar. Kneebone helped to the pigeon-pie; while Thames unwired and uncorked a bottle of stout Carnarvonshire ale.
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