The Secretive Seven

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The Secretive Seven Empty The Secretive Seven

Post by The Archet Bugle Tue May 21, 2013 9:00 am

THE SECRETIVE SEVEN
THE CASE OF THE SMUGGLERS
by Orwell Blyton


Once there were seven incredibly spoilt teenagers who lived in the leafy suburbs of Archet and went to the Buckland Public Senior School on Hoity Lane. This was a long time ago – 1938, in fact – and they were about twelve or thirteen in those days – actually, about sixteen. They were all the same legal age you see, so anything they did to each other was perfectly legal, even the inappropriate things, but nothing they ever did stopped them from becoming perfectly respectable Tories in later life.
 
The teenagers’ names were Amy Diaphanous, April Manchester, Julia Figginbottom, Halfred Fysicsfreke, David Farmer, Peter MacKilty and Odovacar Moneybags. They were pretentious to a tee, and the girls quite forward and the boy’s backward, though the girls being forward in no way implies they were not backward as well, especially Julia.

During the Summer School Holidays all their parents, who were close relatives, went on holidays together to Frosted-Willy-on-the-Coast, a rather nice holiday destination for the landed gentry. They rented out a block of two-up two-down terrace houses and the youngsters were let free reign while the oldsters spent a lot of time at a mansion on Humpty Hill having no doubt spiffy behind-closed-door soirees and the like, the Fathers dressed in Roman togas and the Mother’s as Grecian slaves.  

On arrival, Peter and Odovacar were unpacking their enormous trunks in the bedroom they would share.

“I am so looking forward to this holiday, Odovacar,” said Peter. “I do so hope we will be able to play cricket on the beach for hours and hours.”

“Oh verily, verily, I do hope so, Peter!” Odovacar answered with perfect diction. “I hope also to find time in our itinerary for a torrid bout of skittles or two Peter.”

“That goes without saying, Odovacar.”

“The girls do love it so much, Peter.”

“Do you think I should wear my red smoking jacket – or the tartan, Odovacar?”

“It goes without saying, Peter.”

Meanwhile, Halfred and David were in another room. David was helping Halfred line up his test tubes and dioramas of the universe on a mantle shelf.

“Did you really need to bring all this stuff, Halfred?”

“I did not complain when I lugged up your sacks of Nelson Reds did I, David?”

“I do apologise for being terse, Halfred,” David sighed. “I guess I am just slightly peaky due to the long train ride down from Archet this morning.”

“Perish the thought, David. I think we will all be having an early night. I wonder what the girls are doing?”

At that very moment, the girls were discussing sleeping arrangements in their room.  They were sharing, but there were only two beds, a double and a single.

“I think we must share in turns, Amy and Julia,” said April was saying. “I hope you girls don’t mind sleeping together naked again this holiday?”

“Surely not, April,” Julia smiled. “I have heard that naked flesh pressed to naked flesh is the best way of avoiding being frozen in the snow.”

“I have heard that too, Julia,” said Amy. “And it caused no problems last summer, and even if we get a bit hot and sweaty (like last summer), we can wash the sheets each morning (like last summer).”

“All I know is I’m looking forward to an early night,” Julia proclaimed yawning. “I could just about jump naked into bed with you right this instance, April.”

April laughed. “Imagine what the boys would think if they chanced to walk in just now and hear you saying that, Julia?”

“Those boys are always thinking wild thoughts,” Amy laughed. “Come on. Let’s go down to the kitchen. It’s almost dinner time and I’m fairly pining for one of those lovely jelly rolls Cook was preparing earlier.”

The four boys were already in the kitchen when the girls came down. All seven of them took up places on the two long benches that ran each side of the huge table there.

“Hoy!” Odovacar cried. “Hoy, Cook! Where is our dinner? Serve up, my good peasant fellow. Serve up, or it will a sound thrashing you’ll be getting, betide!”

Cook – the cook – mumbled something under his breath, but quickly served up dinner to the rude and obnoxious teenagers. When he had gone back to the stove and had turned his back, Odovacar whispered, “He looks like a Smuggler. Tonight I plan to follow him down to Smugglers Cave just around the headland and catch him at it.”

“My goodness,” April sighed. “I thought we would take a little longer to start having adventures.”

“No point fluffing about,” David said. “We must be very secretive when we follow him. He looks like he would cut my throat as soon as look at me.”

“And inappropriately touch the girls, I’d expect,” Odovacar said quietly.

“Cousin Odovacar!” Amy expostulated.

“If I was him I would,” Odovacar said, his round red cheeks going a shade redder. “Though I’m not saying if I was me, I would ever do that, not probably.”

“Shush, Odovacar,” Julia hissed. “Cook is coming back with the coffees.”

“Nothing more said,” Peter iterated beneath his breath, so quietly it only reached the tips of his cousins’ hearing. “No more talk until tonight.”

“But what time will he slink off do you think, Odovacar?” Halfred whispered.

“Half nine I'd hazrd, Halfred,” Odovacar whispered back, “Though it’s not like I would know what the best time it is for smugglers to slink off about their nefarious business. Shush now! Here he comes!” Odovacar raised an imperious tone.  “Hoy, Cook! It better be hot, you peasant!”




to be continued...


Last edited by The Archet Bugle on Tue Jan 28, 2014 1:21 am; edited 3 times in total
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Post by Norc Tue May 21, 2013 11:21 am

is this an answer to the fantabulous five Smile
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Post by Orwell Tue May 21, 2013 12:22 pm

Nothing could answer for the Fantabulous Five, Norc. Very Happy

Mind, I think it would have been better coming up with something like this: "Julia Figginbottom Investigates."

Imagine the blurb.

"Julia Figginbottom, a small town Sex Therapist, investigates the untimely death of her lover, Orwell McOdo... Was it murder - or did he die of boredom? Julia sets out to find the stunning truth."

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Post by Norc Tue May 21, 2013 12:50 pm

O_O
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Post by Mrs Figg Tue May 21, 2013 3:47 pm

''Julia Figginbottom, a small town Sex Therapist, investigates the untimely death of her lover, Orwell McOdo... Was it murder - or did he die of boredom? Julia sets out to find the stunning truth''

Extremely Crabbit Extremely Crabbit

((((how does he know' Shrugging )))
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Post by Mrs Figg Tue May 21, 2013 3:49 pm

cant wait to see the Smugglers hole, I bet its huge and humid. Nod Smugglers always put naughty things in their holes hoping the exise men dont root about looking for the odd illegal tuber, I always put my eel oil in my smugglers hole, but sniffer cats always find it, it leaves a trail of fishy odour exciting to pussies and other rodents like Scotshobbits. cyclops
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Post by Orwell Tue May 21, 2013 9:21 pm

Not even Odovacar then knows what they Secretive Seven are in for! {{{But now he might.... mm... not that Orwell Blyton Anon - if I knew him at all - would steal any of your ideas, Mrs Figg. Very Happy }}}

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Post by Orwell Tue May 21, 2013 10:10 pm

THE SECRETIVE SEVEN


2


The girls were revolting by nine pm as it had been a long day and none were in the mood for it. They went and remained in their room, being keen for bed and not for traipsing over the countryside tailing smugglers, and they had made a commitment to leave the boys to do the traipsing.

April: “Is this bed even snugglier than last year, Amy?”

Amy: “I think it is – or you’ve grown a bit wider, April.... But - what? - how can you be on both sides of me?”

Julia: “Oh that’s me.”

Amy: “Oh silly us, we’ve mixed up the sleeping arrangements.”

April had to laugh, “It’s just like last summer all over again.”

April: ”Well, we can’t all three sleep naked together.”

Amy: “Imagine how wet we’ll be by morning, what with all the sweat and body oils.”

Julia: “Let’s face it, we’re bound to end up one on top of the other, if one of us as much as rolls over in the night...”

Amy: “Just like last summer.”

April: “That was you and me, Amy, I seem to remember.”

Julia: “You know, I have to apologize, I do remember now, we did decide that I take the single bed the first night.”

Amy: “Never mind, Jules. Any of us could have made that mistake.”

April: “And have.”

The girls laughed innocently.

“Stay here for a few minutes,” Amy whispered in Julia’s ear. “Who knows? There may be ears at our keyhole even as we speak. And as we should really get onto speculating about Cook and his smuggler activities, I think we need to be very secretive, don’t you?”

"Yes, very, very secretive," the other two whispered.

And so it was agreed they stay close together for a little even if it meant that their young bodies were pressed firmly one against the other. Not that there was anything wrong with that. It was common practice in 1938, just before the Great War, when beds were scarce and Lesbianism not yet invented.

"What could the smugglers be smuggling do you think?” April asked.

“Something very profitable, I imagine,” Amy answered in all wisdom.

“I wonder if they’re using boats to perpetrate their illegal crimes,” Julia mused aloud.

“That’s it!” Amy cried out at the revelation.

“Shush!” the other girls warned her quickly, putting their hands over her mouth and whispering one in each ear, their lips so close Amy could feel their moist breath. “Someone at our keyhole might be listening.”

Amy blushed all over. “Sorry," she said.

April: “That’s alright we do get excitable at times.”

Julia: “Yes, frankly our adventures can be very titillating at times. Even now, safe in our bed, I’m feeling quite titillated.”

Amy: “I noticed.”

April: “But surely the smugglers would need a small to medium sized ship to bring in their illicit cargo. Boats, after all, imply importation by sea.”

Amy: “Perhaps the small to medium sized ship sits just out beyond the Forumshire National Waterline, and sends in a rowboat – reasonably big – to sequester their illicit goods in Smuggler's Cave.”

April gasped: “Then it must be illicit goods from Fjordianlandia!”

Julia: “And that means that terribly expensive Herring Oil from Skattykatzenfjord. It’s been all over the news lately,”

Amy: “Stands to reason. Oh why have we taken so long to realize! And if it’s Herring Oil, it means Skattykatzenfjordian men!”

Julia gasped, “What if the boys get captured by them?”

April: ‘We all know what they say about Skattykatzenfjordian men, don’t we.”

Amy and Julia: “Oh dear. We do. We do.”

April: “The boys will be in for it then!” (She gasped once more).

Julia whipered urgently, “Quickly now, girls. We must arise and seek out the boys before it’s too late.”

And so the girls immediately separated their slightly moist bodies from each other. Time was of the essence!


to be continued....


Last edited by Orwell on Wed May 29, 2013 12:24 am; edited 2 times in total

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Post by Mrs Figg Tue May 21, 2013 10:48 pm

''Julia gasped, “What if the boys get captured by them?”

well I hope they get captured by Fyordlandian Smugglers and sent to squeeze Herring juice by placing it firmly twixt their manly thighs. oh yes indeedy.

pirat bounce
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Post by Orwell Wed May 22, 2013 12:17 pm

I almost think you're suggesting Mr Blyton sexualize the boys in this tale, Mrs Figg! Shocked I think I need to remind you that this is a Family Friendly Forum. Mad

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Post by Mrs Figg Wed May 22, 2013 12:36 pm

that ship has sailed, sailed long long long ago
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Post by azriel Wed May 22, 2013 8:24 pm

And it aint coming back any time soon ! Smile

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Post by Mrs Figg Wed May 22, 2013 9:15 pm

Basketball nope
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Post by Orwell Wed May 22, 2013 9:55 pm

And to think I have spent all my (Forumshiran) life trying to make this place a safe haven for delicate intellects, Bible Bashers and children - have I failed you all, have I? Sad

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Post by Orwell Wed May 22, 2013 10:28 pm

THE SECRETIVE SEVEN


3


"I don't see," Halfred was complaining as the boys made their way down dark lanes with lots of concealing bushes and mid to large shrubs and an occasional coastal tree with its sparse canopy filtering light from the big yellow moon of Forumshire and giving the geography a ethereal aspect, "I don't see why the girls get to snuggle up in their cosy beds, while we four, who are just as tired by the train ride up from Archet this morning, are left to traispse the countryside investigating possible smuggling activities."

"Smuggling activities," David complained too, "which may turn out to be a bunch of ridiculous speculation and a crop of ridiculous imagination on Odovacar's part."

"I'd much rather be up in my bed in the terraces with the girls," Peter mumbled.

"Do you mean in bed with them?" Odovacar asked with a suspicious eyebrow raised. "I mean - in bed with them?"

"Of course not," Peter retorted in surprise. "What kind of proper young gentleman do you think I am? And me with ancestors who were Scots Presbyterians!"

"Shush!" Odovacar hissed suddenly. "Look! Between this craegus and that ligustrum undulatum - it's Cook the cook if my eyes don't deceive me and they don't usually."

"You know," David said in an aside to Halfred, "ever simce Odovacar did that short Botany course he's been nigh on insufferable. You know, he can't even spell botanical names for all his bluster... Now, as to me...."

"Oh shut up," Halfred grumped, as he was much, like Peter just then, tied up with thinking of the girls snuggled up back at their quarters, no doubt feeling very relaxed and having intimate conversations. "I wonder if they're thinking about me?" he thought angstedly. They weren't, of course.

"Is he making for the headland?" David asked.

"I do believe he is," Odovacar exhaled.

"I wonder what's he's up to," David said thoughtfully. "It's almost like he's making for Smugglers Cave."

"My goodness gracious me," Halfred burst out, "I think you're right, David!"

"We must be extra careful then...."

"I thought we already guessed he was a smuggler,"Peter opined, "and that Cook would likely sneak off to Smugglers Cave tonight?"

"Oh shut up," the others said, angry because they did not (deep down) like people from the lower Scottish Aristocracy (and who could blame them?) Also, they did not like him being right either.

The boys now snuck down a shadowy lane under that bright yellow moon. Before long, they came upon the sight of Cook the cook again. They needed to be very quiet as they peeped out of the bushes into an open area of briny grass.

"Have you got the oil?" they heard Cook the cook's voice trailing up on a light coastal breeze that was flicking up just then.

"Hakken hoc, krakken toc zimzam hic likki likey skatzen kakken catty catty nok alkzenbuk oily oily skoon upthakrakken!"

"My goodness me!" Odovacar hissed between gritted teeth. "I say that's Fjordianlandian, or my names not Odovacar Moneybags - and it is!"



to be continued....











Last edited by Orwell on Wed May 29, 2013 12:28 am; edited 2 times in total

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Post by azriel Wed May 22, 2013 10:54 pm

I have to say chaps.. lol!

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Post by David H Wed May 22, 2013 11:32 pm

The Secretive Seven 425972_2378543357521_1769033287_n

{{ I'm driving}}
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Post by Orwell Thu May 23, 2013 6:14 am

David - oh youuuu.... Very Happy

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Post by Orwell Thu May 23, 2013 6:32 am

THE SECRETIVE SEVEN


4


"We must move as quickly as femalely possible, " Julia cried. "But, first things first...."

Now, the heat having increased in the bed, and their communal sweat being extremely sweaty, the girls decided a cold shower was the order of the day (or night, actually), and, as all of them wanted to shower first, and the shower cubicle on the landing being just big enough to fit them all in, at a squeeze, they showered together. It was very co-operative of them, don't you think?

Mind you, girls are generally more co-operative than boys. Whenever the boys showered together, there was a lot of pushing and shoving and thrusting, and them supposed to be genteel and all.

Anyway, after their shower, the girls decided they had just enough time to put their make-up on, but only a quick job seeing that their women's intuition was telling them resoundingly that time was of the essence (as formerly stated in an earlier chapter).

"Those boys could be in a terribly oily situation," April said at one stage. "We must not tarry longer than definitely necessary."

In fact, it took them no more than three quarters of an hour to apply the bare minimal paintwork.

Unfortunately, due to there being only two hair brushes between the three, feminine preparations were unavoidably slowed down.

And choosing the right shoes for a summer escapade on the Forumshiran coast was no easy task, especially when they were under pressure worrying over what evil plight the boys might even now be in.

And then Amy realized that she had not brought a proper skirt for night-walking. It was only after much deliberation - and many tears - that she decided that she must make do with an afternoon-wear ensemble. Even then, it took quite some persuasion on the part of the other girls to get her to leave the terrace; her reticence, in the circumstances, being perfectly understandable...

to be continued....

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Post by Mrs Figg Thu May 23, 2013 1:07 pm

''And choosing the right shoes for a summer escapade on the Forumshiran coast was no easy task, especially when they were under pressure worrying over what evil plight the boys might even now be in''.

Rolling Eyes tsk tsk! everyone knows Forumshirian coastal adventure shoes mean comfortable waterproof yet delicate flats, in maybe a neutral colour so as not to stand out like a silly beacon in the twilight, easily stowed into ones handbag once on board a pirate ship, and yet elegant enough for improvised dinner and drinkies with the captain. I mean. Rolling Eyes
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Post by Orwell Fri May 24, 2013 8:32 am

That's easy for you to say, but these girls were obviously consumed by worry for the welfare of the boys! Mad And chances were they hadn't thought of the obvious --- and, who knows, they might not even have got around to unfastening their shoe trunks by then after taking all afternoon to unpack their dress trunks! Mad

{{{Armchair experts! Rolling Eyes }}}

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Post by Orwell Fri May 24, 2013 8:57 am

THE SECRETIVE SEVEN


5


The boys, as it happened, were hiding in a Droptwig bush (unfortunately) and before you could say, "Petty is a bumpkin!" Peter stepped on a twig.

Snap!

"Frooken wot?"

"In the bushes!" cried Cook the cook. "I bet you it's those tiresome toffs from Archet. Bloody hoity youth!"

"Hitler Youth?"

"Hoity! Hoity! Quick now before they get away!"

"Run!" Odovacar yelled and he was gone like the wind.

Halfred, Peter and David did not quite have Odovacar's evasive abillities, and before you could say, "Petty eats coackcroaches!" all three were bound up in sacks, just as if they were yummy dwarfs.

"This is a fine pickle we're in," came David's muffled voice.

"What do you think they'll do with us?" Halfred asked in a shrill voice.

"Uppenzakrakken alzee way, oily oka onka, Skattykatzenfjord."

"I don't like the sound of that!" Peter wept as he was hoisted onto a hefty shoulder smelling of herring.

"Nor I," wept Halfred in answer, "it sounds more like German than Fjordianlandian, and everyone knows how much we hate the Germans!"

Meanwhile, Odovacar sped through bush and shadow and croft and before long found himself in the little village of Aldershot-on-the-Willy, ten miles away. He stood puffing in the town square and only slowly regained his breath. And then he noticed an inn. It looked a nice inn. Pretty ladies were loitering near the door in rather fetching constumes. He felt in his pocket for his purse. Shaking it he heard a comforting jingle and jangle.

"I think I need a nice sherry to calm my nerves," he said and presently made for the inn.


to be continued...


Last edited by Orwell on Fri May 31, 2013 11:54 pm; edited 1 time in total

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Post by Orwell Fri May 24, 2013 10:23 pm

THE SECRETIVE SEVEN


6


"Which way should we go?" Amy asked once they were out in the open air and arranged their scarves as sophisticatedly as possible given the urgency of the situation. "We appear to have only two realistic choices of route dressed as we are. There's the old rough gravel path down along the shore, or the paved way above the headland?"

"The rough path is surely the most direct," April opined. "But there's our new shoes to consider."

"It seems a shame to get them scuffed up when we only bought them at Harrods last week with a view to the garden party on Lord Canhavem's stately lawns next Tuesday," Julia added.

"And we could quite easily turn a heel in our desperate haste to help the boys," Amy offered, yet again showing her cool common sense in a crisis.

So it was decided.

As they sauntered as quickly as they could along Headland Lane, while still maintaining an approprite roll of the hips in case any boy's were about, it chanced that a lorry from the nearby camp in nerby Havemforbreakfast powered up.

With a chortle of engine and a creak of brakes, the lorry pulled up alongside them.

"[cough] Wot you ladies being out in the yellow moonlight, betides, young madams? [cough]" said the driver in the local vernacular with his elbow hanging out the window and a Rothmans Special glued provactively to his lower lip. "You shouldn weel be out teeneet [cough] what with the Huns about to declare war or sumpin [cough]. Wood ye like a leeft?"

"I don't know," Julia whispered to April. "Should we risk it?"

"Is that the sound of hushed men's voices in the back?" Amy wondered aloud, the moolight glinting in her beautiful eyes just then (which Julia found peculiarly fetching but wisely never mentioned to anyone, the times being what they were, and a war about to begin what's more; she could barely imagine what effect the dance of light in sweet Amy's eyes would be having on the driver who looked quite a lad).

"I bet they're soldiers from the 3rd Third Left Right Left Right Regiment based at Havemforbreakfast," April mentioned. "Cannon fodder, it's said, and all smokers."

Amy made a decision. "Are you perchance going anywhere near Smugglers Cave?" she asked the driver.

"Aye lassie wee bee goin' fairly much the way you're partaking of goin'."

"I don't know," April whispered. "The men of the 3rd Left Right Left Right Regiment have a terribly salacious reputation."

"But we do have our new shoes to think about," Julia said.

And so it was decided.


to be continued....








Last edited by Orwell on Fri May 31, 2013 11:57 pm; edited 8 times in total

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The Secretive Seven Empty Re: The Secretive Seven

Post by Mrs Figg Fri May 24, 2013 10:47 pm

"It seems a shame to get them scuffed up when we only bought them at Harrods last week with a view to the garden party on Lord Canhavem's stately lawns next Tuesday," Julia added.

Rolling Eyes tsk tsk, everyone knows one doesnt buy ones shoes in Harrods, one buys blue cheese or has ones perfumier concoct a perfume strong enough to mask the smell of fish in Harrods, one buys ones shoes, from Mr Choos Emporium for over priced codswallop and fleecing. Rolling Eyes I mean.
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Post by Orwell Fri May 24, 2013 11:00 pm

My mistake. I'm a very manly man as you know and can only guess at girlie things and girlie knowledge and girlie shopping experience, Mrs Figg. As you will have noticed (just like I just did), I've been filling in for Orwell Blyton while he's been away sick or something. Once Mr Blyton's back, the Archet Bugle will begin to publish again. As you know, The Bugle always gets it's facts right. Very Happy (Not like a certain other rag that does not bear mentioning! Rolling Eyes )

{{{Mrs Figg, you of all people would be aware that when it comes to big muscles and incredible womanising, I'm your man, an area of expertise that Orwell Blyton does not hold onto with any weight. I suspect he's a metrosexual to be honest, if not outright gay, what with all his talk of lady's apparel and female small talk which, frankly, has no place in a rollicking good boyish adventure story if you ask me. Rolling Eyes I, of course, have tried to be as gay as possible in Mr Blyton's absence, mind, for continuity purposes... Embarassed }}}

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