‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. "Your sister is dead," said he, in a deep whisper. "A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price to pay for doubtful secrecy, when certain silence might be so cheaply procured. ‘There is little I can do at present.
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