’ Kimble frowned direfully, staring at the weapon with its gold hilt and decorative pattern down the blade. \" They talked until midnight most nights. There's nothing on the card to indicate it, but I'm a detective. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. "Swear that you will do this," she cried. ‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur.
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