"Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience. “I had no idea that it was so abominably late. “There’s twenty before you, and Mr. ‘It is seldom enough I am visited by anyone at all, let alone a personable young redcoat.
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