Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. "You don't recollect me, I presume?" premised the stranger, taking a seat. "Ah!" she screamed, seeing the uplifted weapon in Sheppard's hand, "don't hurt Thames—don't, dear Jack! If you want to kill somebody, kill me, not him. "Something's wrong.
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