"You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. Rumors had it he had been a looker in his youth, all long hair and chiseled muscles, but those days were long gone. “You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Anna answered firmly. " "That's right, Captain," rejoined Blueskin. You're an angel of goodness. The major himself told me that this secret passage started upstairs. " "I might have been able to do that if you hadn't told me … she cared. ” She said.
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