Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. “So should you. I hope I may never come near her. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. “I hope,” Annabel answered lazily, “that you have succeeded. I shall ride to St.
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