‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. ‘Yes, very rude,’ agreed the major. He squinted and a disgusted look came over him. Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question. The servants had left the room. “The doctor has asked me to give them my reasons—for shooting myself.
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