If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles. ‘Now then, my lad, you’re under arrest you are. ‘That’s what comes of disarming yourself. ‘Am I right in supposing you to have been a sister to the late Mr Jarvis Remenham?’ ‘Quite right. They must have a key. " The hint was not lost upon Wood. "Under the table.
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