‘Moreover, no one will believe any more that Yolande is me when they see this. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. ” “Bring her—here,” Hill muttered. She knew it. Sheppard's house, loud yells and vociferations reached his ears; and, looking downwards, he perceived a great stir amid the mob.
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