He glanced at his watch. Superstition is the Chinese Reaper. In another minute, the tramp of horses' feet told that the perpetrators of the outrage had effected their escape. “So, how’d it go?” Lucy sighed. The entire place was a masterpiece of wooden carving, a design of interleaving carried throughout. Something like a snarl crossed his face, and ignoring the pistol, he moved forward, seizing her shoulders.
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