He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. She ought to have leapt back on guard. Visible underneath his collar were some metal tags. You know, Melusine. In doing this, he chanced to raise his eyes and half fancied he beheld, shaded by a pillar at the extremity of the western aisle, the horrible countenance of the thief-taker. He had an appointment in Jersey, you know, after he left the army.
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