"I am no murderer," replied Sheppard. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. 144 I think he heard about the backpack and the spitballs finally. . But how close? She glanced about at the shrouded furnishings for possible cover.
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