“He’s here in the dungeon,” Faart says. “Right over there as a matter of fact.” Penelope spins around to look behind her through the bars to...a metal door on the opposite side. “He never gets to come out.”“I’m sure I could persuade the jail keeper to let me in there,” Penelope thinks aloud.“You could if the executioner was the jailor too,” Faart says, bursting her bubble.So there goes that. We’re in one hell of a pickle and it’s all your fault.“All my fault?”Yep.“You’re the one that wanted to. The musky scent of Christian Dior combined with a hint cigarette smoke was overwhelming. Mrs. Siebert had on a fur cape. I don't know what a****l it was -- fox, mink, sable -- just that it was light gray, almost white. Underneath she was wearing a pink nightgown. It wasn't some flannel house dress designed for cold winter nights. No, this was full length and luxurious, like some 1950's Hollywood diva would wear as she lounged around her million dollar living room. The skirt had two layers, the. More

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