I returned to my o moving as slos. Noterfered y catc can’t er’s story gave umbling from trade ty air to tte, not daring to ask for a drag. t must  t notory suggests t Emmeline er   Emmeline. then who? Isabelle was dead. Charlie was gone.

    I came to my rooms,  in, stood by t oo dark to see; tion, a pale s t.

    At last I listened to t, persistent voice in my  I rying to ignore. Adeline.

    No, I said.

    Yes, it said. Adeline.

    It  possible. till fres if so cry tears for?

    But ted episode after episode from tory I kneopiary garden, eaco Jo. ttacks on Emmeline, ttering, ting. tor and left carelessly, to die or to be found. One of t quite rig possible? ears I  nessed been tears of guilt? tears of remorse? as it a murderess I ed? as t Miss inter  suspicion revealed itself to me. as t of Miss inter’s story? to make me sympate her, forgive her? I shivered.

    But one t least I ormented body against mine and kne only broken love can cause suco Joer to life by getting o teaco prune topiary.

    topiary she had damaged.

    O sure after all!

    My eyes roamed over tside t o Joence for t?

    I rubbed my tired eyes and kneo bed. But I oo tired to sleep. My ts, if I did noto stop t long. I decided to h.

    ed for tub to fill, I cast about for someto occupy my mind. A ball of paper able caugtention. I unfolded it, flattened it out. A ro.

    In ter t-lived attempts at picking some kind of meaning out of my string of symbols. Al un