A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. ‘What are you after this time, miss?’ asked Jack. He was the Napoleon of knavery, and established an uncontrolled empire over all the practitioners of crime. Capes—the ‘Capes crave,’ they would call it in America.
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