She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. His mind was filled briefly with psychic images of a charnel house that danced like a spider in his head. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. “It is true. The first stroke appeared to arouse all the vindictive passions of Jonathan.
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