“This isn’t furtive,” said Ann Veronica. ” He saw her into the train at Waterloo, and stood, a tall, grave figure, with hat upraised, as the carriage moved forward slowly and hid him. Lucy heard a stir, but if Dawn Plote were to arise and come into the room, it could only mean two murders tonight. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene.
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