She felt herself shaking again. He had almost forced himself upon her one night after a particularly bloody raid of a thatched cottage. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. The phone did not ring. It was as though he were personally aggrieved. “Perhaps,” she said, “it is the London climate. ‘I do not understand you. The latter appeared to contain several papers, which Jack carefully put by, in the hope that they might turn out of importance in a scheme of vengeance which he meditated against the thief-taker.
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