He dashed against the screen door before she could catch him and made the veranda. He had a wild impulse to shout. “I believe it is. After much clapping, they started. ‘What are you after this time, miss?’ asked Jack. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage. Out of sight of that tell-tale window, the two officers darted across the grounds, speedily gaining the lee of the mansion walls.
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