The same night he met Meddoes and Drummond together, the latter over from Paris on a week’s leave from the Embassy. Spurling," said Jonathan, who overheard the whisper, "you owe your situation to me. As they left Florence, dying men and women still scrabbled through the streets, screams emanating from the rows of houses, beggars running up to the horses, sick children in their arms, their eyes bleeding, their noses running, begging to join them in their journey out. Uttering a terrible imprecation, Jonathan snatched up the link, and hastily descended the stairs, leaving the Jew behind him.
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