O'Higgins was all that the doctor had imagined a detective to be: a bulky policeman in civilian clothes. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. "The night before last, Mr. 1. For it cannot be that this Jarvis will leave the house to my father.
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