"The blood that has been spilt is that of his wife. Kneebone, who began to feel sleepy, wound it up, and snuffed the candles. “You must not think of me as one. There was an eerie sense of brooding menace about an uninhabited establishment. Nothing is settled upon. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. ” Mr.
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