Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically. Lucy looked about confusedly. It dropped sideways and fell with a bang to the table. “Can you give me any information as to this affair?” he asked. " "But, Mac. He has a way of sitting on people. Spurlock's vision was oddly of the past. ‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk. " And then he added, in an under tone, "Conceal yourself outside, and be within call. And nowhere could I obtain the slightest information. "But, perhaps, he has not got beyond the room above.
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