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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Golden Scarecrow"

The keys with a clang dropped from her hand.
"Oh, God! Oh, God!" she whispered. He did not turn his head to grasp
what it was that she saw in the passage. The terror had been transferred
from himself to her.
The colour in her cheeks went out, leaving her as though her face were
suddenly shadowed by some overhanging shape.
Her eyes never moved nor faltered from the dark into whose heart she
gazed. Then, there was a strangled, gasping cry, and she sank down,
first onto her knees, then in a white faint, her eyes still staring, lay
huddled on the floor.
Henry felt his Friend's hand on his shoulder.
Meanwhile, down in the kitchen, the fire had sunk into grey ashes, and
Mrs. Slater was lying back in her chair, her head back, snoring thickly;
an empty glass had tumbled across the table, and a few drops from it had
dribbled over on to the tablecloth.


CHAPTER VII
BARBARA FLINT

I
Barbara Flint was a little girl, aged seven, who lived with her parents
at No. 36 March Square. Her brother and sister, Master Anthony and Miss
Misabel Flint, were years and years older, so you must understand that
she led rather a solitary life.


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