’ ‘Mercy me,’ gasped the nun. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. There was nothing in his manner to suggest the misery of the preceding night. But there was only Gosse, still struggling with the picture, looking dazedly towards Melusine and the lad he had shot, then away towards the sounds of pursuit, and back again. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. Here would be a woman perfectly unrecognizable, strong, ruthless but just. Her face scarcely reflected his enthusiasm.
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