’ ‘Where are we going?’ ‘Back to Blaye, my girl. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. His expression became pained. . Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed. He drew an awed breath. By this time, the churchyard was crowded with spectators, some of whom dispersed in different directions in quest of the other robber.
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