During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. Looking for something, or someone, probably. The advanced guard rode on to drive away any opposition, while the main body of the procession crossed the bridge, and slowly toiled up Holborn Hill. ’ “Crude, I admit. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind.
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