The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. As she talked, the drift and significance of what she was saying shaped itself slowly to Ann Veronica’s apprehension. He would never recognize me now. ’ ‘I do. Let’s go up to my room. Ennison slightly——” There was a dead silence in the little room. “As it is doubtful whether the man will live, we should be glad if you would identify him.
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