At the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, unmarked. "I cannot sign it," returned Trenchard. Courtlaw might have been able to give me an idea where to stop. Now you haven’t the ghost of one—not if you play the game fair. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. “Which one?” “The one whose life you have been making a burden, who has been all the time shielding her sister.
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