Earles drew out his cheque book. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. The clergyman, meanwhile, proceeded with the service, while the coffin was deposited at the brink of the grave. There was nothing in the pockets of the coat. He glanced up at Roding and met his eyes. The afternoon was her own; but from eight until midnight she sat beside the patient. The second look told me I was wrong.
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