Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. I want to get away—to go to London. They would arrest him for the French spy they had thought her at first. “Well, I don’t think you told him as much as that, did you?” Lady Lescelles asked. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. I suppose I ought to have been a man. A single glance served to show the thief-taker how matters stood. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair.
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