“Dare!” she said. She had killed him. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. Left alone with Edgeworth Bess, Jack burst into a loud laugh of exultation. “No reason.
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