Presently the odour of burnt powder mingled agreeably with that of the incense. ‘Now what?’ The guard jerked his head up the corridor. The Widow and her Child II. Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. From the first of these alighted Thames, or, as he must now be styled, the Marquis de Chatillon.
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