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A sob was strangled in her throat. Gerald would certainly have demanded back his sword. Through it all Spurlock maintained a gaiety which deceived them completely. An enormous Hand that rose up swiftly, blotting out the sky. "Your mother is dead," interposed Wild, scowling. The young lady with frizzled hair, whom Brendon had pointed out to her as Miss Ellicot, leaned forward from her hostess’s side.
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