Meanwhile, the executioner had attached strong cords to his ankles and wrists, and fastened them tightly to the iron rings. The Jacobite. He had been ill; no matter about that: he recollected every thought that had led up to it and every act that had consummated the deed. His feet would have the firm texture of his hands. She winked at him as he shut the door. ‘You’re the most troublesome wretch I’ve ever encountered,’ he told her bitterly. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. ‘Are you going to come quietly, mademoiselle?’ he demanded with grim determination. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. " "Is she alive?" repeated the widow.
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