‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. To-morrow night —or rather to-night, for we are fast verging on another day—I propose to lure him out of the house by a stratagem which I am sure will prove infallible; and, then, what so easy as to knock him on the head. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope.
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