Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. ‘Kill him? Oh. . There was a girlfriend who was mentally ill. When he’s found out where she’s staying, I’ll have him keep an eye on Valade’s residence in Paddington, I think. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. “I think this ends the business,” he said, turning to his sister. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently.
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