‘Come, Hilary. ‘Champion?’ ‘The lad you saw following her. ‘Jacques? You have done it? He is alive?’ ‘Oh, he’s alive, all right,’ confirmed the sergeant, putting the petrified Pottiswick—stockstill and staring in horror at the dagger—firmly out of his way and taking his place before Melusine. To his relief, Mrs Sindlesham stepped into the breach, grasping her cane and rising painfully from her chair. Agents were dispersed in all directions—offers the most tempting held out to induce the wavering to join the Chevalier's standard. "Don't fire," cried the latter.
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