Her wedding gown! She wondered if the spirit of the unknown mother looked down upon her. Ennison roused himself with an effort, took a long drink from his whisky and soda, and lit a cigarette. ‘You cannot be André Valade if you tell them I am one of this family. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now.
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