Aside from some loose coin and a trunk key, there was nothing in the pockets: no mail, no letter of credit, not even a tailor's label. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. The bars dropped noiselessly and slowly down, till the chain tightened at the staple. The militia offered little in the way of relief. Couple of guineas to drink Captain Sheppard's speedy escape. "How?" cried her brother, starting.
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