‘If he needed sanctuary, it raises grave doubts about his activities. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. I can’t even make myself care. Sheppard repressed the scream that rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight, seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to block up the window. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. Acknowledge your faults. ” “I should have his head on a platter!” Sebastian exclaimed dramatically.
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