Wood turned to look at him. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. Lucy heard a stir, but if Dawn Plote were to arise and come into the room, it could only mean two murders tonight. He was not used to not getting his way. I don't know what you have done; I don't want to know now.
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