‘So this is Pottiswick’s French spy. A silver necklace enhanced the dusky beauty of her neck. I've a carriage within call shall convey you swiftly to town. He waved a hand toward the sea. " "The same who was here just now?" "No, Sir Rowland, a much finer boy. Let me keep him. Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically. I swear it. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. ’ The questions that had long haunted her came out at last.
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