"Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. ‘What in God’s name is going on?’ Glancing swiftly towards the doorway, Gerald saw his friend’s disbelieving face and burst out, speaking over the top of Melusine as she made another grab for the little square of linen. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. You shall tell me if I am wrong. I'm likely to get up any time in the night to work.
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