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Inquiring for Mrs. I snatched it up, pointed it blindly at him, and fired. Before he even glanced at the man on the floor he stepped over to her side and took the poker from her. But you’ve got to lend me forty pounds. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. There he was, standing with a group of men who she presumed to be the other richest men in the world. G. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes.
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