They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in. Hot coffee and cakes were sent in to them in the morning by some intelligent sympathizer, or she would have starved all day. She hesitated. "And now to see the end of it," said Jonathan, shortly afterwards passing through the window. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. The second is to somehow meet Lady Ferringhall.
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