Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. Detention would mean coming home late, which spelled distraction and trouble on the night of a kill. The open windows were above them now and, unless the intruder were to lean out, they could not possibly be seen. His complexion was pale; and there was something sinister in the expression of his large black eyes. " "That's not my game. Flinging her back against it, she put her hands out, barring his way.
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