“That young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Café de Paris to-day. Having ascertained that a vessel sails for France from the river at daybreak to-morrow morning, I have secured a passage in her, and have already had the few effects I possess, conveyed on board. Dim possibilities that she would not seem to look at even to herself gesticulated in the twilight background of her mind. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. "I must see him to-night.
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