Snatching-up his pistols, he rushed to the door, but to his horror found it fastened. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. Hadn’t the stomach to admit the truth, had he? I’ll lay any money he labelled you with some foul French name as well. ‘Certainly you may have me under guard. ‘Hilary was right.
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