Lucy stepped inside. The nuns, they were very good with a whip. Perhaps he had had money in the coat, back in Hong-Kong, and had been robbed without knowing it. From the freshness of the stains, which grew more frequent as they approached the adjoining chamber, it was evident some violence had been recently perpetrated, and the carpenter's own blood froze within his veins as he thought, with a thrill of horror, that, perhaps on this very spot, not many minutes before his arrival, his adopted son might have been inhumanly butchered. ‘Is that a gesture of friendship?’ She stamped her foot. "Stop thief!" roared Jonathan, who perceived the fugitive hurrying along a street towards Hatton Garden.
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