The great door of the Stone Hall was thrown open, and the sheriffs, preceded by the javelin-men, entered the room. “Yes. Wood. His literary instincts were reviving. ” She commented, only to herself. He folded the garments carefully and replaced them on the chair. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. Then he understood. The knight and his followers crossed the threshold, leaving one of the torch-bearers behind them.
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