’ Gerald could not suppress a grin. He shivered and looked behind as he stepped into his hansom. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. “You did your best to kill me,” he said. The window was shortly after opened, and a rope ladder, with a lighted horn lantern attached to it, let down. Blueskin and the Minters were dragging Wood to the pump. In mailing the tales he had not enclosed return postage or the equivalent in money.
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