” “I’m not surprised at it. ” Courtlaw was dismissed. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. Like most officers, he’d had it especially made, for a man who loved danger had need of a precision instrument of defence. ‘You don’t favour her, bar the black hair.
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