In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears. ‘What else was there to do? He paid off the servants and left old Pottiswick in charge, saying that the place would have to remain empty until the heir was found. ’ ‘From you,’ the lady threw at him furiously. ‘The major will tell you when to stop. ’ ‘Useful certainly.
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