Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. You’ll need that. Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other. The Supper at Mr.
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