She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. Then instinct took over. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. "Where is it?" "Are you the mother of this child?" inquired the person who had first spoken, addressing Mrs. How much Mary knew is a mystery.
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