"When in France, I heard from the Marshal that his brother had perished in London on the night of the Great Storm. “Then turn round and go back there,” she directed. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. ” Lucy commented as the mud was smoothed around the grave site. This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. 6.
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