You sent back my Christmas checks. ” “You are foolish,” she declared, with a note of irritability in her tone. ‘What would you do in Valade’s place?’ ‘You mean, knowing that the girl was here and liable to queer my pitch?’ ‘Precisely. Nine years ago, I worked in this very house—had a kind indulgent master, whom I robbed—twice robbed, at your instigation, villain; a mistress, whom you have murdered; a companion, whose friendship I have for ever forfeited; a mother, whose heart I have well-nigh broken. Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. Everything goes—the copra for oil, the fibre of the husk for rope, and the shell for carbon.
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