" "Rely on me," rejoined the executioner, throwing away his pipe, which was just finished. "We were talking shop," said McClintock, rising. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. ‘It is all the fault of that lantern. Not even, it seemed, this interfering monsieur le major. . He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. Before an hour had elapsed, the concourse was fearfully increased. CHAPTER I. Our heads swim with the thought of being together.
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