“Even a head wound bleeds some,” he explained, “and that sort of wound is generally pretty—well, pretty messy. Of course that may be wrong. She may have been stunned first like Sarah Gittings; and killed in the country somewhere.” He got up to go, and as he stood there with the light shining down on his bald head, I saw that like the rest of us he looked tired and depressed. “There are times,” he said, “when I don’t like this job of mine. And this is one of them. Take you. Take little Miss Judy. She’s got troubles …
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