The agonized mother could scarcely repress a scream at the spectacle that met her gaze. ” Drummond looked up with mock eagerness. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. She came in now with an air of reserved solicitude. His name is carved upon a beam up stairs.
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