\" Lucy said as they ascended the steps. She hesitated. "Jack Sheppard knows this house, I believe, Sir," observed Shotbolt. She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. Let us have no more of this humbug. She traced him by his scent.
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