The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved. “Shot through the lungs,” he remarked. A chill ran through his frame, and, grasping the heavy weapon with which chance had provided him, prepared to strike down the first person who should enter the cell. ‘Exactement. I would have liked to know. I told him instantly and shamelessly that the play was going to be worth ten thousand pounds. The plank hung over his head. The major hailed him with a show of relief.
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