"It's an odd-shaped one," rejoined Kneebone, examining it attentively. "When it thunders, the thief becomes honest," muttered Wood. Wary they might be. “What the hell is going on here, Officer?” He grumbled. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year.
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