In truth, Sheila never saw Lucy murder anyone at all, she only saw the blood. "You needn't go far to do that," returned Quilt; "there he stands. ‘I do not know of whom you speak. ’ The questions that had long haunted her came out at last. . No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. A vein of conviction mingled with his burlesque.
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