"Impossible!" echoed Wild, with a fearful imprecation. ’ ‘Hadn’t the wit, you mean. It must be somewhere hereabouts. At length, about an hour before dawn on the second day—Sunday—having spent the early part of the night in watching at the gates of the robbers' sanctuary, and being almost exhausted from want of rest, she set out homewards. She watched, puzzled, as her cavalier frowned at the newcomer, glancing from him to Melusine and back again. Hang it, there must be something about her that will give it away. Why don’t you go in? Charvill is there. She had hardly noticed the loss of her dagger, so strong had been the waves of relief that attacked her on hearing that Jack had returned from death’s door. Someone bounded up the stairs, which groaned from the strain, unmistakably Mike.
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