CHAPTER XXXI. ” He relapsed into a stony silence. I thank God for His sunlight on your face. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. Sebastian spotted her among them instantly.
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