By the light of a torch borne at the stern of the hostile wherry, he saw that the pursuers had approached within a short distance of the object of their quest. Where was the expected message from this captain, who had promised to send her word at the instant Gerald returned to town. “Nice sleeve,” she said, and came to his hand and kissed it. ‘Pardon, milor’,’ said Valade, ‘but Monsieur Charvill, he was not at fault.
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