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A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY. ’ There was a kind of aching hunger in Gerald’s gaze. “No, I am alone,” she answered. But all that could be ascertained in the village was, that a man had ridden off a short time before in the direction of London. She had found the location of his firm on the internet on a library computer, tracing him to this place in New York where he practiced criminal law. But I tell you in return, I shall take no pains to hide myself. The assassination, as you call it, was, obviously, the vengeance of a kinsman of the injured lady, who no doubt was of good family, upon her seducer. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. I bring you tidings of an old friend.

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