The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. He must be gone to dispose of the body. Let me have a word with him, and you may take all the money. ’ *** Mrs Chalkney, a long-time friend of the late Mrs Alderley, had been delighted to oblige that lady’s son. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. “Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved.
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