Sometimes as a little boy during the times when his room light was sleep-reduced he had pulled the coverlid over his head to see what darkness was like. We had not gone thirty paces from the shaft when far down in the depths my iron dart shot into the nerve ganglion of old mother earth and the great moment had arrived. Behind him, count pallgrave and cremmin waited, holding books and ledgers.

We were standing now -- rather near the edge.


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  • Krimi 029: Der perfekte Selbstmord (German Edition);
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  • Repentance and Fasting;