“Mr. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. He passed his arm under that of the constable, and drew him aside. Somewhere, where we can talk without interruption. She wouldn't be able to pass by anywhere without folks turning their heads. It was she! The Dawn Pearl! He vaulted the veranda rail, careless now whether or not he was heard, and ran down to the beach. It was a habit she had taken from Remenham House, but could not wear because of the colour which must draw attention.
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