‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. “She found my collection of witchcraft books under my bed and threw them away. It saved me the bother of being studied. He proceeded to the deck, where Ruth and McClintock were waiting for him by the ladder. From McClintock's came an infernal tinkletinkle, tump-tump! There was no composing with such a sound hammering upon the ear. .
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