They sat down, McClintock reaching for a lump of sugar which he began munching. “I think this ends the business,” he said, turning to his sister. She was nestled under his bedspread. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. "I'm armed; you are not. " "Indeed!—who is it?" "Jack Sheppard. Civil engineering. I didn't mean it.
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