It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. The assassination, as you call it, was, obviously, the vengeance of a kinsman of the injured lady, who no doubt was of good family, upon her seducer. The young lady with frizzled hair, whom Brendon had pointed out to her as Miss Ellicot, leaned forward from her hostess’s side. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees.
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