“Perhaps,” he said, “I have been to blame. Here, Caliban, attend to the door, and keep the wicket locked till I return. Gay. The light of memory flashed in the man’s face. Like carpenter, like chips. She would lure him, as he was an easily tempted child predator who could even more easily be turned into prey. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. The Master of the Mint was accompanied by another gentleman almost as portly as himself, and quite as deliberate in his movements. We’re closer than you think.
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