’ Kimble frowned direfully, staring at the weapon with its gold hilt and decorative pattern down the blade. “Certainly. Not us. Shall we say at half-past seven?” She rose from her chair. "But bring your glim this way. Now, let’s get down to business. “Then either this man shot himself or some one else shot him immediately before your arrival—or rather if it was not himself the person who did it was in the room, say two minutes, before you arrived. Wily little devil she is. " She departed reluctantly. It'll be your turn to save mine next. ” “Let us say that Café Maston, in the Boulevard des Italiennes, at half-past seven then,” he decided.
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