’ Gerald’s eyes never left the girl. “I should think YOU could do all sorts of things. “Your house is so huge. Rummage, my boy, do. Master, your humble servant. “How would you know?” Michelle’s interest was piqued. He seldom spoke, and drank with a persistence that was sinister. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. That would be an unkind twist of fate. Barleycorn had sent to the mat for the count of nine: unless the young fool's daddy had a bundle of coin. He’ll do. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s.
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