Cathy answered the phone. She was the High Priestess. An Englishwoman. The noose was at its throat when I called for help. “I cannot but conclude,” he said, “that your errand involved the recital to my wife of some trouble in which you find yourself. 1. As he looked up at the massive tower, the clock tolled forth the hour of midnight. “No, I am alone,” she answered. Courtlaw stood up.
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