He was a little impressed by Ann Veronica’s metaphor of the string, which, indeed, she owed to Hetty Widgett. Why don’t I just go and get the key from Pottiswick?’ Alderley flicked a glance back at him over his shoulder. I am not sure, but I believe that he has just thought of something. ’ Both hands about the butt of her unwieldy pistol, Melusine glared at him. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her.
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