‘Pray you, mademoiselle, can you not—’ ‘No use trying to enlist Lucilla’s aid,’ snapped Roding. Dismissing the post-chaise at the Old Bailey, he walked to Newgate to ascertain what had occurred since the escape. “I thought they made knights of actors?” “They may of Hal some day,” said Gwen. He was halfway across the ballroom, where the dancing had ceased for the musicians to take a well-earned rest, when Roding pounced on him.
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