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The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank. ‘I think,’ he said pleasantly, ‘that it would be as well if you, Hilary, were to go and fetch the troops. . ‘Not yet, madame. But not finding it, he had again recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish its hold. The prisoner breathed with difficulty.
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