He next twisted the heavy gyves round and round, and partly by main strength, partly by a dexterous and well-applied jerk, sapped asunder the central link by which they were attached to the padlock. “He is a sad blunderer. And if you’ve any notion—’ ‘Yes, it is upstairs,’ Melusine agreed, crossing to the library door. As she raised it, its lower portion fell apart into two baggy crimson masses. She rose to the fire to stoke it. “Look at our affair,” he went on, looking up at her.
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