‘You are related to General Lord Charvill?’ ‘Monsieur le baron, he is my grandpére,’ she confirmed. She sat very still, and his eyes rested on that ornament for a moment, and then travelled slowly to her wrist and the soft lines of her forearm. The slim knife was wrested from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases. From McClintock's came an infernal tinkletinkle, tump-tump! There was no composing with such a sound hammering upon the ear. .
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