The Mysterious Affair at Styles


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ran out.  
Just carry up my despatch-case, will you, dear? I'm going to bed."  
"
The door into the hall was a wide one. I had risen when Cynthia did, John  
was close by me. There were therefore three witnesses who could swear that  
Mrs. Inglethorp was carrying her coffee, as yet untasted, in her hand.  
My evening was utterly and entirely spoilt by the presence of Dr. Bauerstein.  
It seemed to me the man would never go. He rose at last, however, and I  
breathed a sigh of relief.  
"I'll walk down to the village with you," said Mr. Inglethorp. "I must see our  
agent over those estate accounts." He turned to John. "No one need sit up. I  
will take the latch-key."  
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