He was holding the ring to the light, and narrowly examining the inscription. Drink the toast, Jack. Before midnight, your nephew shall be safe beneath the hatches of the Zeeslang. "I'll see him fettered myself. ‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion. I found it on the beach, just sitting there nestled inside a piece of driftwood. “My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please. “Is that all you have to say?” Michelle challenged her. But we get over it.
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