There was a moment’s breathless and disappointed silence. To settle things, you know. Filled as he was with conflicting emotions, any stretch of silence would be dangerous. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor. "Who, then?" demanded Jack. Gladstone would have to a carelessly displayed interior on a dissecting-room table.
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