As soon as the cavalcade stopped, the sexton advanced, and, ringing a handbell, pronounced the following admonition. They turned off at Glen Grove, a sleepy town of less than two hundred. She had thought of the lawyer who conducted the Remenham business, but she knew not where to find him. “For better or worse. Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation.
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