He returned, blue towel in hand. But she was relentless. In vain did the woollendraper offer to set him free if he would restore the stolen article, or give up his associate, to whom it was supposed he might have handed it. ‘It was your son who left the place empty then?’ he asked. This smile was more harrowing even than her former rigid look. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. " "Wear that to-night, then. Perhaps her granddaughter might marry his grandson. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. ‘Why do you stand there? Take him up, and bring him out at once.
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