There was a lock, apparently more than a foot wide, strongly plated, and girded to the door with thick iron hoops. She had found it in 1988, the year of the stock market crash. “Why just take her limbs? Why not poison her, like me?” “Because, if you remember, she turned me into a vampire. Spurling. Closing the door, Jonathan next produced his lantern, and, hastening towards the window, undrew a bolt by which it was fastened.
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