’ ‘Between the devil and the deep blue sea, he were,’ agreed Pottiswick’s daughter. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. Either it was an unfortunate recovery of a trail, or he had followed her from Mayfair. That would be myself, or if she lived, Mary’s daughter. His French is better than mine, so he knew exactly what he was handling.
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