The Eight Strokes Of The Clock

Maurice Leblanc

Hortense Daniel pushed her window ajar and whispered:"Are you there, Rossigny?""I am here," replied a voice from the shrubbery at the front of the house.Leaning forward, she saw a rather fat man looking up at her out of a gross red face with its cheeks and chin set in unpleasantly fair whiskers."Well?" he asked.






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