He fondled her naked breasts with his fingers, then his mouth. ‘Jacques, do not go!’ Jack gazed steadfastly at the floor. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. I'll not speak of Jack or Jonathan. Superimposed was the agitating thought of what would follow the death of this unwelcome guest: confusion, poking authorities, British and American red tape. He saw the flames burst from the windows, and perhaps in that maddening spectacle suffered torture equivalent to some of the crimes he had committed.
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