Well, my friend found us out, and would give no quarter. ’ Lucilla frowned. ’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. She opened it and drew out a letter, and folded within it were the notes she had sent off to Ramage that day. For a moment none of them stirred; then slowly Enschede turned away. You are my prisoner, murderer. Spurlock stepped into the room.
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