She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. Sebastian returned to find her blood dripping into the crucible. The Magdalene. I couldn’t help the thought. “Great Scott!” he exclaimed huskily. She was too late. Spurling, who did not dare to exhibit her satisfaction otherwise than by privately pinching the arm of her expected husband. The bridge was open. Something seemed awry.
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