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Another shout. Chapter 10 A lower vestibule in the castle's front hall, the lieutenant's opera cloak lies discarded like a velvet skin, thrown over the shoulders of a hollow armour suit standing beneath a rosette of swords upon the wall.
It took me a long time to grasp it, but it made me the man I am Fletcher tapped at his lips with his forefinger which is, I realize, a somewhat pathetic sight.
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