. . Sheppard was unwillingly compelled to listen. That would come later. ’ Hilary’s jaw dropped open, and he stood stupidly staring, the nun’s clothing dangling from his hand. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. " At this moment Charcam entered the room.
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