“You’d have to think how to get in between his bones. ‘If you care for me at all, shoot me. ’ ‘We had other matters on hand this morning,’ Roding told him sharply. Anyone else who finds out must be killed, otherwise, you insure death or worse for us. Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her.
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