The pistol was lowered slightly. Or felt it. Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. Jonathan Wild must have stolen it from her. "He was hanged that left his drink behind, you know, master," rejoined Sheppard. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. She wasn’t well-liked really, I think people were jealous of her. And mind you don't arouse his suspicions.
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