’ She sipped at the liquid in her glass, but her eyes remained fixed, rather unnervingly, on Gerald. ‘No, you don’t. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. There was something very wrong. 13 with a latchkey went humming lightly up to her room. My name is Wild— Jonathan Wild.
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