’ ‘Where are we going?’ ‘Back to Blaye, my girl. Simply. ‘You will arrest me? For—for—’ ‘Trespass, theft and spying,’ snapped Hilary. Good looks, with a melancholy cast, always drew sentimental females. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it.
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