" "Mr. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. Kneebone, who began to feel sleepy, wound it up, and snuffed the candles. It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. ‘And so?’ she asked. She rapped again, louder. She throws a sort of spell over us all.
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