I am starting on a hunt in darkest Deanery for my cuff links.
The blacksmith talked, and Yates listened, putting now and then a mark on his cuff.
Then it was that no cuff nor sharp word was necessary before they could pat him.
But with the master the cuff was always too light to hurt the flesh.
His eyes shone, as he hid the little, sharp knife up his cuff.
He shot his ...