"I never went to school. As to following, there was no one. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright. Stanley lost patience.
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