"Where are the packets committed to your charge by Sir Rowland Trenchard?" "The packets!" exclaimed Kneebone, in alarm. She pushed between the pews, hoping to reach the sword first, while desperately holding on to her petticoats to keep them up, as her sword arm wavered. ” “It certainly was,” she admitted. ” “But how?” He was, she thought, a little too insistent. "May I beg to know whom I've the pleasure of adressing? Jackson, I conclude, is merely an assumed name.
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