"Your detective has been remiss in his duty; let him suffer for it. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. ‘I’ll wager that militiaman never rode the animal, then. "Is your master at home?" inquired the jailer. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse.
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