‘Why don’t you?’ Melusine frowned at him, grasping the dagger more firmly. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. He had a narrow escape, however; for, passing within an inch of him, the bullet burried itself deeply in the wall. It was his belief that the French had enough troubles of their own in these difficult times without bothering to nose out British business.
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