Then she looked up at Brendon. He rose slowly and extended it. Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. This will be safer than cutting his throat on shore. The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed. Her brown curls were pulled tight in a severe chignon. "Off!" she cried with a prolonged and piercing shriek. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat.
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