“Hello?” She asked as she cradled the phone by her ear. Spurling. ” She said to them, raising her head to speak, her voice unsteady. They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions. ‘You had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I shall end by strangling you. I followed you in. You are a detective?" "Yes. “I’m not going to kill you, John.
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