"Stop!" groaned Blueskin. Now he lay there, a doubled-up mass, with ugly distorted features, and a dark wet stain dripping slowly on to the carpet. I owed his father a grudge: that I settled long ago. Wood obeyed. Try your luck with Jarvis Remenham—if you will. From this spot a road, more resembling the drive through a park than a public thoroughfare, led him gradually to the brow of Dollis Hill. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it.
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