Wood hadn't struck me. Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally. Chapter Eight For an instant in the silence that followed, shocked into immobility, Melusine stared in horror at the body lying there so still. No: I must face it out. Vorsack would staunchly disapprove of his attire, said nothing anyway. Wood, when he does return, I'd send him about his business.
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