At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. . . Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. The few pence left in her purse would only provide a very scanty lunch.
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