He did it, he said, “to distract his mind. ‘Certainly you are imbecile. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. “I’ll go,” she vowed to the night, “or I’ll die!” She made plans and estimated means and resources. Somewhere you may stumble upon a clew to his identity.
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