The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. You did not find him, but did you find his pistol? In the room beyond the bookroom there—a big room where a table had fallen. Thanks. It was one of the most educational disillusionments in Ann Veronica’s career. Melusine ripped at the buttons of the garment, dragging it open and away, and gasped at the massive red stain on his shirt. Not a word passed between them.
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