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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"Flames"

I attach immense
importance to where one lives."
"It seems horrible to come to an end in such a place, to have had that
wretched Frenchman as the only witness of one's death. Still, I suppose
it is only foolish sentiment. Valentine, did you notice how happy Marr
looked?"
"No."
"Didn't you? I thought you watched him almost as if you wondered as I
did."
"How could I? I had never seen him before."
"It was curious the landlord seeing a likeness between you and him."
"Do you think so? The man naturally supposed one of us might be a
relation, as we came to see Marr. I should not suppose there could
be much resemblance."
"There is none. It's impossible. There can be none!"
They rattled on towards Piccadilly, back through the dismal
thoroughfares, towards the asphalt ways of Bloomsbury. Presently
Julian said:
"I wish I had seen Marr die."
"But why, Julian? Why this extraordinary interest in a man you knew so
slightly and for so short a time?"
"It's because I can't get it out of my head that he had something to do
with our sittings, more than we know."
"Impossible."
"I am almost certain the doctor thought so. I must tell him about Marr's
death. Valentine, let us drive to Harley Street now.


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