"It's the skull of a rebel," said Jonathan, with marked emphasis on the word, "blown by the wind from a spike on the bridge above us. It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. ’ He made a pretence of rising and making a sortie to the corner to see if anyone was there. ‘Alors, now I am also a murderer. ” He was dressed in his uniform of a Polo shirt and twill pants. ‘But I am perfectly serious,’ he returned in a voice of protest.
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