Everything was very neat; it had evidently been straightened up and kept for her. ” He released her hand and talked in eager undertones against an auditory background of urgency and distress. ‘If he had, he’d have found the sword, see. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. ‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. She came into the room. She made a slow tour of the front of the house without success, and then started back along the rooms behind, dragging open the drapes each time to get just enough light to recognise what was on the walls. She remained for some seconds crouching at the fender, poker in hand. He looked the boy over with interest.
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