It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. She could see that she was now the exclusive object of the boy’s attention. . In a moment his grasp grew weaker. ‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me. Remember?’ ‘Parbleu,’ came from his still struggling victim. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache.
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