Besides, it was under false pretences. The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. ” “Excuse me,” Mr. ” Ramage reflected. Nuns, I mean. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. .
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