"May I ask whether you made any further inquiries into the mysterious affair about which we were speaking just now?" observed Jackson, turning to the carpenter. Did you really doubt if I knew?” “No. \" She handed the ticket seller, a boy that looked to be all of eighteen years old, murder money that she had stolen from Dawn Plote's dead son, five dollars. She was good to me for the two years I stayed with her, she had a nice apartment in Galveston. ‘Kimble, you shouldn’t be here. .
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