“There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead. ” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. ’ Her lashes fluttered. ‘In the bookroom, sir,’ answered the man, his eyes round as they took in the furious beauty at the visitor’s side. “I am much obliged to you,” he said. "Release him," said Jonathan.
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