“Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?” She steeled herself, refusing to react. " Sir Rowland's brow darkened. Here are their letters. What of Gosse, whom those soldiers had allowed to escape? Hiding—or perhaps gone. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha.
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