’ ‘But Gérard knows. " But he searched in vain. "My plan is a very simple one," rejoined the thief-taker smiling bitterly. During the foregoing occurrences a dead calm prevailed. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. ‘Damnation!’ Confused, he released her, and in an instant she had darted away and was running down the garden. "My horses, Charcam," he said, as a servant appeared. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. I have always had a secret crush on him, to be honest with you. This was irregular.
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