‘Do you mean to tell me,’ enquired the captain at length, ‘that you have had the infernal audacity, the—the gall, the—the— Gad, it’s an outrage! You’ve stolen a horse from a priest?’ ‘I did not steal it,’ protested Melusine hotly. Immediately he grasped the fact that there was drama here, probably the old drama of the fugitive. A door slammed. Left to Capting Roding, as he told me hisself, you’d be in prison this moment.
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