Fancying they were alone, Sir Rowland threw aside his cloak, and produced a heavy bag of money, which he flung upon the table; and, when Wild had feasted his greedy eyes sufficiently upon its golden contents, he handed him a pocketbook filled with notes. It is not at all what I expected either. You have betrayed me. The Reaper is not sated yet. " Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless. “One is always playing the surgeon, one kills always the thing one loves best. ’ Melusine fought down the raw emotion that threatened to overwhelm her and drew a steadying breath. Wild has done his business.
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