His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. ‘Dare I guess at the reason for your sudden interest in émigrés, Gerald?’ ‘Lucilla,’ barked Hilary warningly. " "Go with him to Tyburn,—never lose sight of him till the noose is tied. Give me your name, girl!’ ‘Again?’ Mademoiselle rolled her eyes. Someone bounded up the stairs, which groaned from the strain, unmistakably Mike.
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