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Not Trodger. This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. "Could you get any of the music last night?" "Yes. If Thames is murdered, you are his assassin. ” “You mean—you think——” “Hush! I think that he was concealed in my room, and Annabel and he met there. You ought to know that. On the day he carried the manuscript to Copeley's he brought back a packet of letters, magazines, and newspapers. “Oh, dammit!” he remarked, “dammit!” with great bitterness as he faced it.
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