" "Ay, ay," cried the jailers, laughing. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. Wild, and his uncle, Sir Rowland Trenchard. Here would be a woman perfectly unrecognizable, strong, ruthless but just. ’ A sudden frown sprang to the fellow’s face. Her husband was drinking in the tavern with the other guests. "I know the house well; by the same token that it's a flash crib.
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