She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone. But no more of that. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. This door, which was open, Jonathan locked and took out the key. I must bless him before I die. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. He was still thickly clad in jeans. "We'll give them the slip yet, and hang that butcherly thief-taker upon his own gibbet. And now take away those cards, and never let me see them again.
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