The flat was apparently empty. "Follow me, Thames," cried Jack, dropping into the chasm. Michelle looked at Lucy knowingly. Amid a litter of nails without heads, screws without worms, and locks without wards, lay a glue-pot and an oilstone, two articles which their owner was wont to term "his right hand and his left. " "Generous girl!" cried Jack from behind the skreen. There was a pause, and then the front door slammed. ‘If you care for me at all, shoot me.
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