The plank hung over his head. ‘Certainly you are imbecile. Pull yourself together now. Hopefully. ‘And if he is dead I know not. If my Mom found out, she’d kill me. There you are, the best client’s chair. " "From whom?" vociferated Trenchard. ‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk. ‘How is your plan now, mon brave?’ Melusine taunted. And, setting down the link, he proceeded deliberately to untie his cravat.
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