CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. ’ Pierced to the heart by the poignancy of this utterance, Gerald could neither move nor speak. " "Sir Rowland Trenchard!" echoed Jack, in amazement. She had made a bed for herself out of wood and furs. Rhea went down, screeching and clawing at the air for the sword, which clanked heavily on the ground. The chair, meanwhile, with its unhappy load, was transported at a brisk pace to Newgate. ’ ‘Militia, miss,’ Kimble corrected her. .
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