He listened to the thunder of the fall now mingling with the roar of the blast; and, driven almost frantic by what he heard and saw, he pushed with all his force against the stone. ‘You the fellow Gerald spoke to?’ Kimble flushed beetroot, and Melusine had a flash of insight. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. You did not say a word about it last week, nor have you written.
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