At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. Detention was merry for the other detainees. One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise. Trodger laid down their muskets and turned on them. ’ Trodger had started towards the stairs, signing to his men to get behind the lady. He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand. She was herself conscious of a recklessness of spirits almost hysterical.
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