The detective backed out slowly and closed the door without sound. Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire. His face clouded with anger. Its very calmness was frightful. “So Lucy, I hear that you are quite the violin player.
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