’ ‘You mean monsieur le baron, the General Charvill, my grandfather?’ Melusine laid aside on the table the letter she had been studying and turned so that the frame of her nun’s wimple no longer obscured her view. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. “I do not suppose he will be home till late.
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