“I suppose he’s frightfully clever,” said Miss Klegg. He looked at it eagerly, but made no movement to take it. "I yield to fate. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. “He was a friend of your sister’s, was he not?” “I never heard her mention his name,” she answered. She blushed prettily, and in a moment regained command of her tongue. You know all this stuff is insured.
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