” With a little crash the pistol fell from her shaking fingers. I'm neither an infidel nor an agnostic, so I'll content myself by saying that the hand of God is in this somewhere. You'll find me at supper. Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically. He led her unerringly, pushing her down the narrow stairway that had been the servants’ access to the upper floors, and thence through a small door that led into the chapel. " Spurlock, who was absorbing this talk thirstily, laughed.
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