His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. ‘What else was there to do? He paid off the servants and left old Pottiswick in charge, saying that the place would have to remain empty until the heir was found. Kneebone, who began to feel sleepy, wound it up, and snuffed the candles. If you want me, you know where to find me.
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