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Martin’s eyes seemed about to pop out of his head. But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast. “I’d have to sneak out after everyone was asleep. But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall. The militia were in already.
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