" "Where are the assassins?" cried Sheppard. Below the window he saw two coolies carrying a coffin, which presently they callously dumped into a yawning pit. Pragmar probably knew Mr. ‘That’s my pet name. " "I don't know. ’ ‘Slaughtered with the rest, was she?’ Despite his hatred of the woman who had caused so much grief, the general found he could not rejoice as he wanted to. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. ‘But a spy I am not.
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