“Bother it all!” she swore. ’ ‘Well, don’t blame me if you get your head blown off. Mr. " "Not in the least," replied Shotbolt, creeping beneath the table; "there's my staff. " CHAPTER V. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. ‘He can’t be Valade, that’s certain,’ mused Gerald, unheeding. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket.
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