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“Nigel, Nigel,” she cried. With a cry of distress, she dropped the pistol and flew after him, racing past him to the door. If you know her for the vicious, scheming wretch that she is, why in God’s name—?’ ‘She’s not a vicious, scheming wretch,’ Gerald said calmly. ” “I am staying,” she answered coolly, “at a small boarding-house near Russell Square. But as Rowland sprang to the helm, and gave the signal for pursuit, a roar like a volley of ordnance was heard aloft, and the wind again burst its bondage. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. ” He looked at her, his eyes illuminated by the glow of the dashboard. .
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