His chest heaved violently, and big tears coursed rapidly down his cheeks. He did not think of her as a killer, he could barely conceive it. “He is evidently a friend of Mrs. E. ” “It certainly was,” she admitted. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place.
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