A sob was strangled in her throat. The vicomte must be well known to those high-born who have gone to England. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. Gerald watched her vanish into the darkness, unusually incensed. "You'd better surrender quietly, Jack," he cried; "you've no chance.
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