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"The Riddle of the Frozen Flame"

"A man
stands by his master, you know--if 'e's a good one; and though we'd 'ad
words before, I didn't bear 'im no malice. And I didn't want the old
'ouse to come to disgrace."
"So you waited until things looked a little blacker for him, and then
decided to cast your creditable scruples to the wind?" said Cleek, the
queer little one-sided smile travelling up his cheek. "I take it that you
had had what you term 'words' since that fatal date?"
Borkins nodded. He did not like this cross-examination, and his
nervousness was apparent in voice and look and action.
"Yes, sir."
"H'm. And if we put that to one side altogether can you give me any
reason why I should believe this unlikely story in place of the equally
unlikely one that your master has told me--knowing what I do?"
Borkins twitched up his head suddenly, his eyes fear-filled, his face
turned suddenly gray.
"I--I--What can you know about me, but that I 'ave been in the employment
of this family nearly all my life?" he returned, taken off his guard by
Cleek's remark.


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