Surely she could ignore him. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. “Oh, I can’t thank you. . It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. ‘What can I do, miss?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ cried Melusine. First, I went to Country Tom's, the Goat, in Long Lane. There's my thumb upon it.
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