Await me in the coach. Her hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders. She was certain he would hear, sleeping in the nearby castle. ” A shade of concern darkened Carol Diedermayer’s face. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. ” The strain in her face was visible as she tried to remember. The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. .
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