The robbers proceeded singly, and kept on the grass skirting the road, so that no noise was made by their horses' feet. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. “They have all been trying to turn my head. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. ‘Thanks to him, Hilary and I nearly had our heads blown off. CHAPTER XVII. She passed inside and upstairs without a word. It is she that I must see.
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