Spurling stood her negro attendant, Caliban; a hideous, misshapen, malicious monster, with broad hunched shoulders, a flat nose, and ears like those of a wild beast, a head too large for his body, and a body too long for his legs. "His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. And there's your liver. " "But, goodness me, the hotel will take care of him! Why not? They sold him the poison.
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