’ The lodgekeeper had been in fine fettle by the time Major Alderley had produced his investigatory force at the gates. Most of the horses were dead, all but three stallions and two mares left among what was once a thriving stable. ’ Shock ripped through Charvill’s chest. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. The next moment, a heavy plunge told that the fugitive had been consigned to the waves.
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