Slowly she released the hammer on the pistol, uncocking it, and Gerald became conscious that he had been holding his breath. ‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia. Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. " "All right; and thank you.
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