Читать книгу The Last Bouquet: Some Twilight Tales - Bowen Marjorie - Страница 7

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Mme. Marcelle Lesarge died in the same hour precisely as her twin sister, but not in so agreeable a manner.

She had lately become rather desperate in her choice of admirers, and on that September evening she had taken home to her apartments a worthless young rake who for some while had been flattering her.

What passed between them on this particular evening no one would ever exactly know, though it was not difficult to guess, for in the morning she was found murdered, her room robbed and rifled, all her jewellery stolen, and nothing left but the large bouquet of crimson roses, which were found flung down carelessly on her bosom, profaned, drooping, and dappled with her blood.