Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. Having traced the footsteps to the wall, and perceiving no outlet, Blueskin elevated the lamp, and discovered marks of bloody fingers on the boards. Who? Could it be Gerald? Quickly, she looked back at Gosse’s face, and found him frowning. I doubt I hold any interest for him anymore. " Upon which, he set off in the direction of the entry.
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