The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. Picked up the photograph, looked at it, handed it back, and never batted an eye! The act was as clear as daylight, but the motive was as profoundly mysterious as the race itself. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. It’s the public entrance. From me. “Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded. ’ She spoke with difficulty, holding down the rising emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.
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