’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. ‘It looked to me as if he was playing games with Madame Valade,’ Lucilla said frankly. One could go to him and tell him one loved him. “I should like to speak to you for a few minutes,” he said to Anna, dropping his voice a little. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered.
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