Now lend me your own hand. And I want you for myself—for my wife. Who were you looking for tonight? One of the émigrés? There were several in there. Wood entered the room, followed by Thames. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. ‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship. I’ll kill you, Sheila, and I’ll kill her too. Already she missed all of her fine things, her linens and leather bound books.
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