Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book. ‘You mean there isn’t any evidence of a break-in. ‘Peste,’ she wailed, as Emile dropped to the floor, ducking down. Coarse as were the ruffian's notions of feminine beauty, he could not be insensible to the surpassing loveliness of the fair creature, who had thus solicited his attention. She touched bow to strings, playing a fifth. It proved to be a human head, though with scarcely a vestige of the features remaining.
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