It was not for a week or a month. There was none. He wished he had the time to solve this riddle, for it was a riddle, and four-square besides. You simply can't get good oil down there, so I must husband the few drams I carry. He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp. Just as Jack gained the entrance, he heard a man's footstep behind him, and aware that the slightest indiscretion would betray him, he halted, uncertain what to do.
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