She leaned back in the corner of the cab with a little sigh of relief. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. ’ Grasping the lantern, and heedless now of the discomforts of the passage, Melusine flew like the wind back towards the library, the vision of Jack Kimble’s white face driving her on. Wood. He knocked at the door.
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