He listened. There were some deepseated fears of the rot spreading to England, if the simmering discontent of the peasantry of France were to erupt any further. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. My heart would speak if it could, for it is very full. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. A queer game this: he could not move directly as in an ordinary case of manhunt. Had I not known that you and your affianced bride are dearer to him than life I should have used this money to secure my own safety. Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt.
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