’ Kimble frowned direfully, staring at the weapon with its gold hilt and decorative pattern down the blade. And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness. "Shpeak up, vill you?" cried Abraham, rapping his knuckles against the hatch. Anna and her escort exchanged glances. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously.
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