McClintock would bang his fist upon the table. I've got to know why. But whatever she may have said was lost as Gerald pinned her to the wall, the point of the sword at her throat. Her mouth was an effective tourniquet. He has been bottling it up all the way from West Kensington. Flinging her back against it, she put her hands out, barring his way. "I took you for one who wouldn't hesitate to avail himself of any advantage chance might throw in his way," returned the thief-taker, coldly.
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