Then she dropped the curtain and stepped back into the room. There was the motor accident, too. ‘What else was there to do? He paid off the servants and left old Pottiswick in charge, saying that the place would have to remain empty until the heir was found. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. Sebastian crouched on the floor with a single dead victim, a young highwayman. The freezing water reached her chin and she felt the heat of her body dispersing, creating a disappearing patch of warmth as her limbs froze. Then, naturally, I went on talking.
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