“Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. Did he see him, this Monsieur Charvill?’ ‘I don’t rightly know, miss,’ confessed Kimble. The knife is at my breast. Sebastian had known it was coming, but he could not avoid sleeping as easily as she could. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips.
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