Gosse had come to Blaye, so he had said, feeling it his duty as the vicomte’s erstwhile secretary to deliver the fateful tidings, bringing with him one of the servant girls, Yolande, who had also escaped the fury of the mob. It was enough. The noose was at its throat when I called for help. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. Wood fancied he heard the exulting laugh of Jonathan Wild.
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