’ ‘It’s too late for that,’ Gerald told her evenly. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. ’ Trodger had started towards the stairs, signing to his men to get behind the lady. She had killed him. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. I wanted to have something to give up. At the door to the kitchen, he called out, ‘Pottiswick!’ The old man came out, shoving his chin in the air and glaring.
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