" "Murder him!" cried Trenchard shuddering. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. Run away now, please. He touched her breast as if he was testing the waters of a cold lake. ’ ‘Oh yes, yes.
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