What's-your-name?" "Shotbolt, Sir," replied the jailer. The strong fingers of one hand secured both her wrists there, and Melusine found herself chest to chest with him as he threw off his hat, and began to pat at her petticoat, searching for tell-tale protrusions. ‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart. ” “You have it,” he declared confidently.
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