ToC Jack Sheppard, after whistling to Blueskin, hurried down a short thoroughfare leading from Wych Street to the back of Saint Clement's Church, where he found Thames Darrell, who advanced to meet him. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. That was the Frenchie, Valade, surely. Their flitting hands were always touching. I hope that she is okay.
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