‘As for your dagger—’ She held out her hand palm up, as if she expected him to give her the weapon. " Without waiting for a reply, but darting a malevolent look at the prisoner, he quitted the cell, the door of which was instantly double-locked and bolted. Lots of us are like that. She recalled him. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly.
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