‘Silence,’ hissed a voice in French. He was in misery; he was paying for last night's debauch. The sharp point of the sword at the girl’s throat bit sideways. . He seemed to possess a penetration and cunning beyond his years—to hide a man's judgment under a boy's mask. He scooped up Michelle’s unconscious body. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. “In five minutes I shall be ready.
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