‘But this is not to my blame, grandpére. ” “And no one else—has a key?” “I believe,” she said, “that that man must have one. People hounded him about the disappearances mercilessly for weeks after the concert, first the police, then the Becks, then people from school. With a little more meat on him, he would be handsome. In a few minutes more he had made a breach in the roof wide enough to allow him to pass through. Silk. Or run me through. And since then, he has openly avowed his determination of cutting his master's throat on the slightest inkling of treachery.
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