She finished the olive and looked up. “He was a friend of your sister’s, was he not?” “I never heard her mention his name,” she answered. Get out your pad and pencil. " And he pointed significantly to the hand. She felt him sometimes at night as he called to her in her dreams. Perhaps you'll call that charity: I call it defeating the ends of justice. “I cut off his right hand pinky with his own rusty bolt cutter. His sword-arm fell useless at his side and she knew herself safe.
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