One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. On this second excursion, forewarned, she would use no light and keep as quiet as a mouse, she vowed, and thus refrain from attracting the attention of the militia at the gates. So this was what it was all about. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. "You'll not forget the thousand, Sir Rowland—short accounts, you know.
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