Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. ‘What Frenchman would that be, missie? We ain’t let no one escape. “The surgeon’s knife is surely a kindly weapon,” she declared. “You are Mademoiselle Pellissier?” he asked, without rising to his feet.
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