The clock chimes. He looks at it,
seems to make a decision, blows out the match, throws the matchbox on
the table, takes_ MRS. BRAMSON'S _tape and keys from his trouser
pocket, crosses quickly to the safe by the fireplace, opens it, takes
out the cash-box, sits on the sofa, unlocks the cash-box, stuffs the
keys back into his trousers, opens the cash-box, takes out the notes,
looks at them, delighted, stuffs them into his pocket, hurries into the
sun-room, returns a second later with the empty invalid chair, plants
it in the middle of the room, picks up the cushion from the floor above
the table, looks at it a moment, arrested, throws it callously on the
invalid chair, hurries into the kitchen, returns immediately with the
paraffin, sprinkles it freely over the invalid chair, places the can
under the table, lifts the paraffin lamp from the table, and is just
about to smash it over the invalid chair when there is the sound of a
chair falling over in the sun-room. His face inscrutable, he looks
towards it. He carries the lamp stealthily to the desk, puts it down,
looks round, picks a chair from near the table, and stands at the
sun-room door with the chair held high above his head.
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