" "Where are the assassins?" cried Sheppard. They left the castle that day for another, packing with them the leftovers of the troupe that followed them from place to place, never asking about the occasional disappearance of one of its unlucky members. The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms. "I'll have to set you right on that, too. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion.
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