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ToC As Jack opened the gate, and crossed the little garden, which exhibited in every part the neatness and attention of its owner, he almost trembled at the idea of further disturbing her peace of mind. “Have you any money?” “Lots,” Anna answered laconically. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. “Then either this man shot himself or some one else shot him immediately before your arrival—or rather if it was not himself the person who did it was in the room, say two minutes, before you arrived. For awhile he watched the revolving light on Copeley's. She barely heard a word that Martin or Brown said, until Martin’s voice chimed.
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