He thought he heard a scraping sound as he turned the handle. Sepulchre's church, where, in compliance with an old custom, it halted. Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties. ’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready. He took a handful of the gravelly mud, with which the platform was covered, and threw the small pebbles, one by one, towards the gleam.
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