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"My God, sir!" said Walters, a servant even now

And at last I write that sentence: Captain Fraser-Freer of the Indian

Army lay dead on the floor, a slish face!

The horror of it is strong within

this room of mine which is so like the one in which the captain died He

had been stabbed just over the heart, and ht was of that

odd Indian knife which I had seen lying on his study table I turned

quickly to seek it, but it was gone And as I looked at the table

it caer

prints--er prints

The roole One or

two odd matters met my eye On the table stood a box from a florist in

Bond Street The lid had been removed and I saw that the box contained

a number of white asters Beside the box lay a scarf-pin--an emerald

scarab And not far fro to

the Ger hat