‘Gabbling and muttering in a foreign tongue, that’s what I heard, sir,’ had declared the gap-toothed ancient, when he told them of the initial foray he had made, sneaking around the house in the dark. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. One day she awoke and he was cavorting about underneath the covers. ’ ‘There is no need for this,’ he ventured mildly, and lifted his finger to show his own pistol was not cocked. "Sign this," he said, pushing the document towards Sir Rowland.
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