\" She handed the ticket seller, a boy that looked to be all of eighteen years old, murder money that she had stolen from Dawn Plote's dead son, five dollars. ‘Didn’t mean to say that. ” “You would let him—knowing—all that you know?” “Why not? She is my flesh and blood. “I do not understand. After debating with himself for some time whether he should employ an assistant, or make the attempt alone, his love of gain overcame his fears, and he decided upon the latter plan.
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