’ ‘Then you’re mad,’ Roding said flatly, and suddenly grinned. "When in France, I heard from the Marshal that his brother had perished in London on the night of the Great Storm. Her girl Clarice was next, dying within a single day, blood leaking from her pretty brown eyes like an image of the Blessed Virgin. "Don't ask me about it now. ‘Did it indeed?’ ‘I should think he’s guessed, don’t you?’ ‘Without any doubt at all.
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