Michelle repeated herself brashly, “A vampire, silly. He’s dead. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. " "Unpossible, master," rejoined Ben; "the tide's running down like a mill-sluice, and the wind's right in our teeth. ‘What the devil for? I’ll have one of the men ride the creature up tomorrow. " "That's well!" cried Jack. ‘Monsieur, my wife intended not to anger you,’ he said in a tone of apology. It was the beginning and the end of the transaction.
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