She tried for her usual confident tone, but only succeeded in sounding gruff, even to her own ears. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. “Diedermayer’s a kiss-ass. At the door through which she had entered the room stood the so-called Monsieur Valade. Having heard from Thames that you were better, and that your sole anxiety was about me, I came to give you the first intelligence of my escape. While this was passing, Jonathan had ridden back to Marvel to tell him that all was ready, and to give him his last instructions. I must not let you go again. . “He does not come here,” she exclaimed, quickly.
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