“Allow me. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. ’ Departed? ‘Tchah! I suppose the vicomte threw him out?’ Watching the fellow’s face, Everett felt his suspicion growing. " "You may see the marks on the child yourself, if you choose, Sir," urged the widow. Very romantic and all that.
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