Part 2 Ann Veronica Stanley was twenty-one and a half years old. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. He gave her one of the sweaty red cans. ‘Dear me. Kicked out of there for something shady. No umbrella either, the sky was delightfully overcast. She floundered deep. He was nearly wincing. I put my foot down like—like adamant. . " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell.
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