The boy was coming around. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. ‘The gatehouse? But why must you move him at all?’ ‘Listen, missie. Anna had told me that he carried always with him this bogus marriage certificate. I will be up with my wife and daughter after lunch.
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