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They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. ’ Gerald laughed, and turned back to Melusine, who was frowning again. Wood; "that's the surest way!" "No! no! give it me!" vociferated Wood, snatching the pistol, and rushing to the door, against which he placed his back. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. She did not want to seem to shrink from conversation, but all sorts of odd questions were running through her mind.
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