She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. “Okay. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. That was supposed to be Madame Valade. I looked up the 261 name Iovelli. It fell to the ground and smoked ominously. Gerald raised his cockaded hat, and smiled.
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