’ Melusine had to bite her lip to stop herself from interfering as, under Trodger’s direction, the two militiamen gave up their muskets into his keeping and lifted Jack. She held out the foil. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances.
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