She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story. Then she was turning, ignoring the muttered cursing and the rattling that immediately ensued at the door. Besides, I'm afraid her simple honesty will spoil any invented yarn. I know not who you are; and, as I cannot discern your face, I may be doing you an injustice. Spurling; Austin had never quitted his post. A species of vertigo seized him. Turning, she flew for the nearest door. ’ He added on a teasing note, ‘Though if there’s anything suspicious we can always get the key from Pottiswick.
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