The night was clear and moonlit, dazzling with even light blue shadows that shone into manicured lawns and pristine gardens. And for Suzanne and the vicomte, I am nothing. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. Gerald’s task was to stop him from doing so. "They shan't have the opportunity," replied Kneebone. "Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat.
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