Charvill’s command of French was enough to tell him that, for its entire content was devoted to commending Nicholas Charvill’s fourteen year old daughter into the care of the Abbess. A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. On the floor, underneath the sixth row desks, was an ashtray with a small black dot of blood on its blunt round corner. "Take a drop of brandy before we start, watchman," said Wood, pouring out a glass of spirit, and presenting it to Terence, who smacked his lips as he disposed of it. He walked on for an hour longer, till he could scarcely drag one leg after another.
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