Eric Vorsack still toiled at work. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned. “Miss Pellissier, isn’t it?” he said. Covering his face with a crape mask, and taking the candle from his associate, Jack entered the room; and, pistol in hand, stepped up to the bed, and approached the light to the eyes of the sleepers. She made lumpish and inadequate interruptions rather than replies.
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