“The company stared at Rainbird as if suddenly whisked into the presence of Balaam’s ass. And in the momentary silence there could be heard from outside the curtained windows the roar of motor-car engines starting into life and the crunch of wheels gathering impetus on the snow. “It was the pork, sir.” Rainbird was apologetic. “It was your naming the pork, sir, that made me feel I’d better mention of it.” Everard Raven looked at his butler in astonishment. “Mention it, Rainbird? What in ...the world are you talking about?” “Well, sir, nothing exactly in the world at all, if I may so express myself. Or half in the world, like.” Mark Raven turned round to scan the bottles and decanters, apparently suspecting that the explanation of this dark speech might lie in several surreptitiously consumed bumpers. “The witches, sir.” Rainbird’s voice sank dramatically.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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