Sebastian dug through the viscous layers of foul-smelling clay with a shovel, each successive insertion creating an obscene sucking noise that ate at her sanity. The infant was rescued from a watery-grave by an honest mechanic, who has since brought him up as his own son. “He means nothing!” She whispered loudly. ’ ‘Are we to infer that he had a choice?’ enquired Gerald. If my conjectures are right, this boy would stay there indefinitely. You need fear no interruption from him, or any of his myrmidons.
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