Here I am. He spoke the automatic thought that entered his mind. Sheppard. Nasty, damp passages. ‘I told her you couldn’t have been flirting, but she wouldn’t believe me. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. He saw that his words were falling upon dull ears. You know my fixed determination. “Is it your maid?” he asked.
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