It was the blood she found that cemented her decision that her foster daughter was a criminal. ‘Say it. "That's tremendous!" he cried. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. Something about the girl had suggested an idea. " The stranger smiled incredulously. The Vorsack house bore the stamp of Diane in every visible spot.
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