"Farewell!" cried Jack, embracing them. ‘Jacques?’ she called. " "Proceed, Sir," said Trenchard, breathing hard. Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. ’ Emile’s eyes blazed.
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