"And the Marchioness is your daughter," added Thames. The young lady with frizzled hair, whom Brendon had pointed out to her as Miss Ellicot, leaned forward from her hostess’s side. I want to know—just as much as I can. "Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame. The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor.
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