Wood's," was the reply. Advancing to the middle of the chamber, he halted, drew himself up, and fixed his dark, expressive eyes, on Thames Darrell. Let's get one idea into our heads. “Mr. Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery. She packed her things, then ran a mile to Julian’s apartment. Wood could stand it no longer. But it is my fault. Mike and Shari sat at the kitchen table eating potato chips. The detective rapidly sketched the appearance of the room in his notebook, and picked up the pistol from under the table.
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