‘And now,’ he said, drawing Madame to the seat, and contriving to sit close enough that his anatomy touched hers at several points, ‘let us talk about you, madame. I do not know anything of him since I have fourteen years, and that he sent me to Blaye to be a nun. You might trust me with the Chevalier himself,—I'd never betray him. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs.
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