The Frenchman had moved back into Piccadilly from Down Street, at which the lad following him had immediately sauntered away a yard or two. "Shall I fetch it for you, Sir?" "By all means. "Defend yourself!" cried Jack, drawing his sword. ‘But―but how can he know?’ His soldier’s instinct overtook Gerald and he dropped all his insouciance in a bang, becoming brisk. "Sir Cecil is no more. Wood was heard without, angrily demanding admittance.
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