The woollen-draper looked at his watch. The ring's yours, and you're mine. “To be my eternal love. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am. I’m sorry Lucy. The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. It had gone with the rest. ” “The inference is, then,” the detective said smoothly, “that this man obtained admission to your rooms by means of a false key, that he burnt some papers here and shot himself within a few moments of your return. And now, come and sit by me, my dear, and let's have a little quiet chat together.
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