He did not think of her as a killer, he could barely conceive it. "I'm tired of the life I'm leading. Not far from the entrance, on the left, was a sort of screen, or partition-wall, reaching from the floor to the ceiling, formed of thick oaken planks riveted together by iron bolts, and studded with broad-headed nails. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips.
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