“I saw his face in a mirror. Upstairs, in the little dressing-room, the panel was opened by means of tugging a small candlesconce in the wall. “Do you mean to say that you have been here ever since I came?” “I am afraid that I must confess it,” he answered. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. Let’s go. ‘But then again, possibly not. F. At last the panel swung back into the library.
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