She let them fall and sped to the companion, where she stood for a moment, the moonlight giving her a celestial touch. "You are no longer Thames Darrell," she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; "but the Marquis de Chatillon. “Well, you know. No wonder that Trenchard, as he gazed at this fearful being, should have some misgivings cross him. The thought allured him, and therein lay the danger. Then there came briskly along the path towards her, an Englishman.
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