’ ‘His daughter, ma’am?’ Gerald asked. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. “What ought she to do?” “Suppose you—” “Yes, suppose I—” He felt that his advice was being asked. Where was the expected message from this captain, who had promised to send her word at the instant Gerald returned to town. "And Jack?" "Gone too," sobbed his daughter. She had never let off a pistol in her life.
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