” “Your priestess,” whispered Ann Veronica, softly. "Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room. ‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion. Jonathan looked in that direction, and beheld the fugitives riding off in triumph.
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