Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. ‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald. Stanley. ‘Let’s check the rest of it and then I suppose we will have to break in. ’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. But though the breach was large enough to admit him below, he could not squeeze his bulky person through the aperture into the Red Room.
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