As soon as the manacles were slipped over the prisoner's wrists, and the new padlock secured to the staple, they withdrew. She guessed Jack was having trouble finding the right piece of carving. ‘Jacques?’ ‘No. Annabel was conscious then of the slow anger which had been burning within her since the night of her visit to the “Unusual. And, mind, it's for his sister, Lady Trafford. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. Managers and accountants are always shifting about, so he tells me.
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