It shall be the bludgeon. Lucy could sense her mental resolution to nip Michelle’s burgeoning obsession with the occult in the bud. She had felt deserving of the punishment, as he had been mainly concerned that she would be killed by accidentally falling into the pit, but it was a terrible insult. “Everything will follow,” she said. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. “It’s my fault. "Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. Taber is the name. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. Filled as he was with conflicting emotions, any stretch of silence would be dangerous.
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