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Where the stuff came from was always a mystery. ‘But how do you come here?’ ‘Down on a routine patrol, unluckily for you,’ he answered grimly. Jesus! They just wouldn’t let up about you after you played the violin for them. But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. I make no apology for not being with you now. So far as regards his attire, Baptist was not seen to advantage.
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