“Don’t they look like a pair of young lovers sleeping off a tryst?” He observed. “My God!” he said again. ” He said to her, quite unsure of whether or not he was dreaming. "Where are the packets committed to your charge by Sir Rowland Trenchard?" "The packets!" exclaimed Kneebone, in alarm. His brows drew a little nearer together. Wood, in equal trepidation.
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