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‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. He had his sections of the Siegfried map folded in his pocket, and he squatted up with his legs crossed like an Indian idol while she lay prone beside him and followed every movement of his indicatory finger. Now she knew why the soldiers had not caught him. ‘Gérard, you are a great fool. ‘You have rifled his papers.
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