’ Joan sniffed. “There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead. ‘And me, I am a lady. As Jack conjectured, no one was there, and, though a lamp was burning on a stand, they decided upon proceeding without it. He’s waiting. It is very bad. At this moment, a door was opened below; lights gleamed on the walls; and the figures of Rowland and Sir Cecil were distinguished at the foot of the stairs.
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