Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. They crossed the Channel in sunshine and a breeze that just ruffled the sea to glittering scales of silver. And the sergeant, having carried out all Melusine’s instructions as if they had come out of his own head, went up to check on his patient, apparently at last convinced that his prisoner would not attempt to run away. "Take it," cried Wood, holding the infant towards her; "take it, and fly. " He summoned another "boy" and rumbled some Cantonese. Wood set off at full speed from the Mint, and, hurrying he scarce knew whither (for there was such a continual buzzing in his ears and dancing in his eyes, as almost to take away the power of reflection), he held on at a brisk pace till his strength completely failed him. "Why do you ask?" rejoined the other haughtily.
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