There is the key. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. Both, however, having safely landed, they cautiously crossed the room, and passed down the first flight of steps in silence. I got a rusty bolt cutter. ” He left at once, immensely relieved, yet scarcely satisfied with himself as regarded his share of the interview with this young woman. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing.
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