There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. ‘It will suit me very well that you go away, because you are a person without sense and I do not wish to talk to you. The Well Hole. The detective rapidly sketched the appearance of the room in his notebook, and picked up the pistol from under the table. D'ye hear. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot.
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