‘I knew it. He picked up the broken fiddle and beckoned. Like most officers, he’d had it especially made, for a man who loved danger had need of a precision instrument of defence. Advancing to the middle of the chamber, he halted, drew himself up, and fixed his dark, expressive eyes, on Thames Darrell. “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. They walked past his old jungle gym set to a hilly park that dwelled sleepily beyond his house.
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