He drifted in and out of consciousness. Until he felt a sharpness digging into his coat at the point of his heart. Ramage admitted the force of that. The pistol, it was not loaded. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. ’ ‘Ah. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. "Crime upon crime.
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