You give her a daub here and there where the rust shows. ’ Abruptly, the niggling doubt that had been plaguing Lord Charvill came sweeping to the surface. . From the first I could see that neither believed my story. "I carried them off on the fatal night when we got into Wild's house, and you were struck down," replied Blueskin. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. ” She thought of her father, and with an effort dismissed him from her mind. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat.
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