Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how. Treading with noiseless step over the soft mould, they soon reached the building. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. "Old Morgan the trader," she explained, "used to save me Tit-Bits. ‘Ah, now I may see what damage Gérard has done to me,’ she muttered, crossing to the table and putting her hand to the sore place at her neck.
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