. ” “I have a clue, at any rate,” he remarked, smiling. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. Then the dagger’s point came in a whirling arc towards his face. He passed but a cursory glance over the formal certificate that identified the Frenchman before him as one André Valade, distant cousin to the Vicomte Valade. His chest heaved violently, and big tears coursed rapidly down his cheeks. "You've got him?" demanded Ireton.
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