Swiftly she ran her hands over the carvings, trying to find the lever to the secret panel again. ’ ‘Aye, but she don’t reckon to militiamen. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. This time she feinted as his point came up to deflect her own, and disengaging, passed under and cut at his cheek.
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