She saw marks in the dirt where he had been pacing. "I shall like to call you that. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. You'll find her at Black Mary's Hole. Luckily it was so dark, and there was no lamp near, that the man did not notice the condition of the body, which was placed in the vehicle by the two young men. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. His literary instincts began to stir.
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