Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. “Then either this man shot himself or some one else shot him immediately before your arrival—or rather if it was not himself the person who did it was in the room, say two minutes, before you arrived. “But I wish,” she said, “I had some idea what I was really up to. But, egad! I believe he will. . . Sheppard, gently, "nor do I need any.
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