She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. ’ ‘Ah, that explains your surprise. In Hamilton Place that is, like I told you before, miss. In one of the little red circles the doctor had traced that abbreviation. Now I have done something for which you might be pardoned if you did kill me. Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. "I've done all I can to the portrait here. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water.
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