Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. “Don’t think so,” Drummond answered. A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. I'm entirely at your service. Gerald? But could he be here so quickly? She hastily dabbed at her eyes, thankful for the darkness that she saw had come on outside unnoticed, dimming the room.
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