He must be gone to dispose of the body. And she would have to go tomorrow. "Miss Thornhill's a charming girl. And meanwhile, we’ll just have these no doubt potentially lethal little claws of yours out of harm’s way. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. Then the dagger’s point came in a whirling arc towards his face.
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