’ ‘A pox on the creature,’ swore Mrs Sindlesham, clenching and unclenching her stiff fingers. She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering. “Hainault was Celeste’s friend, and Celeste was Annabel’s enemy,” Courtlaw said. The work of plunder over, that of destruction commenced.
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