‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. He looked at her with an expression of comical despair. In another minute, the tramp of horses' feet told that the perpetrators of the outrage had effected their escape. But he knew. Heliers.
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