He was always visualizing the Hand whenever he let his gaze rest upon the horizon. Figg?" asked Gay. How would it serve Nicholas to keep the truth from his daughter? A tiny thread of disquiet troubled him. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. ‘Of course it is,’ corroborated Hilary. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. I hear the sound of his horse's feet in the yard.
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