Spurling in alarm. ‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. ‘It did not seem to me that it was so. ’ He closed the panel and came slowly out of the little dressing-room, Roding at his heels. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague.
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