He smiled inwardly. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. ‘Oh, Marthe,’ she groaned, using in her accustomed way the French version of her nurse’s name, ‘that pig is going to monsieur le baron. Ramage, I came here—I didn’t suppose for one moment you would dare —” “Nonsense! That is your mistake! You are too intellectual.
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