Wood, meantime, had not remained idle. ‘Grace à dieu, he breathes still. Now tell me, if you can, something about the man who calls himself Valade. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. "Fly, Captain—fly!" Aroused to a sense of the possibility of escape, Jack, who had viewed the deadly assault with savage satisfaction, burst from his captors and made for the door.
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