Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. “That’s suicidal bullshit, Lucy. She wanted to scream, but there was no one to scream for. Amiable and good-looking. Strange gurgle-like noises emanated from the crypt. ’ The sergeant’s air became positively avuncular. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila.
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