He glanced at it, and saw the bloodied blade. A sudden knock at the door startled her. Stanley lost patience. " The stranger smiled incredulously. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. Father— dead. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said.
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