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Barleycorn had sent to the mat for the count of nine: unless the young fool's daddy had a bundle of coin. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. ’ Kimble’s widening gaze told its own tale, but still he kept his fingers on the handle of the door. The hurricane had now reached its climax. ’ Chapter Three Captain Hilary Roding listened with only half an ear to the long-winded report being given by Sergeant Trodger, his idle gaze wandering over the congested traffic of Piccadilly and the many pedestrians weaving a hazardous path through it. “Gross.
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