She glanced at him. "So you did," replied the prize-fighter. "Well, since you force me to betray my master's secrets," replied Quilt, sullenly, "I've ridden express to Manchester to deliver a message to Sir Rowland. Wood," she continued, with a sudden change of tone, and convulsively clutching the carpenter's arm, "promise it me. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
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