" "My death will lie at your door," remarked Jackson to the carpenter. She was only a few yards from the door, but lacked the courage to rise and fly. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. “I am fairly well known here. “What is a ballot-box like, exactly?” she asked, as though it was very important to her. “Then either this man shot himself or some one else shot him immediately before your arrival—or rather if it was not himself the person who did it was in the room, say two minutes, before you arrived.
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