‘Then open it quickly. " "Look at it, then," said Wild, giving him the portfolio. Lucy knocked again. Then to Martin's brandy-shop, in Fleet Street. Play foul, and win. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol.
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