“I wrote it for you. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. " "Rely on me," rejoined Kneebone. ‘Wait a minute, though. “Your name and address in his pocket was no delusion,” he said sharply. ” Courtlaw turned abruptly to Brendon. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. “She has improved her style,” someone declared.
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