“Well, no,” she answered. Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't. The vast heap of rubbish on the floor had been so materially increased by the bricks and plaster thrown down in his attack upon the wall of the Red Room, that it was with some difficulty he could find the blanket which was almost buried beneath the pile. "Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. " "Ah! Sometimes I wonder I don't run amok and kill someone," said the Wastrel, in broken English.
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