He forces an engagement upon her. It was hard to meet that gaze. “You killed them, didn’t you?” He said. It throbs cruelly. Unconscious that his movements were watched, Shotbolt, meanwhile, hastened towards Wych Street. “You asked me in to tea,” he protested. What were you doing at Remenham House? I can’t puzzle that bit out. “You wish me to stay?” he asked, in a low tone. For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters.
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