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December 31, 2001
Argyle limps over to the window and stands on his hind legs to peer over the sill. 'We should be safe now. It'll take them half an hour just to find the front door, and the Vile won't risk witnesses. What's the time?'

I look at the clock. 'Just before four.'

'It'll be light in less than an hour.' He slumps back down to the floor, and looks at me disconsolately. 'Oh shit, what have I done?'

'What is it?' I ask.

'Shit shit shit shit shit,' Argyle moans.

Nothing's quite so unsettling as hearing your cat use bad language.