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” She said. My foster mother, Sheila, insists that I go to St. ‘You will arrest me? For—for—’ ‘Trespass, theft and spying,’ snapped Hilary. The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters.
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