Spurlock bent his head to the rail. " "Hold your tongue, sirrah," rejoined Shotbolt, not over-pleased by the remark, "and mind what I tell you. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. That night a grave was dug in Willesden churchyard, next to that in which Mrs. "Well!" cried Mrs. ” “Pretty name.
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