While he was thus occupied, Thames, prompted by an unaccountable feeling of curiosity, took up the penknife which the other had just used, and examined the haft. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. After all, this could never be the black sheep. It lay undisturbed in the remotest corner of the recess. Mind, I, Baptist Kettleby, say so. ” Lucy omitted the part where she “disappeared” him. And then amusement crept into Alderley’s chest and he let his pistol hand fall.
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