We dressed it in a little music. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. And a time will come, Veronica, mark my words, a time will come when you will bless me for my firmness to-night. He stopped abruptly. Near the body, which, it will be surmised, was that of Abraham Mendez, two ruffianly personages were seated, quietly smoking, and bestowing no sort of attention upon the new-comers.
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