’ ‘That’s just it,’ said Joan Ibstock shamefacedly. Why? Here was a curtain indeed. It's big, thanks to you. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. It was the blouse that gave Lucy away. Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. After all a thousand pounds is a trifle to rid you of an upstart, who may chance to deprive you of tens of thousands. There was a pause, while the steel grey eyes sliced at her. "An audience might have frightened the birds. But no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same.
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