“I believe she’s dressing up-stairs—now. But I am here. She sat in deep thought for a moment or two, and then nodding briskly, dipped the pen in the ink again and began to write. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. But she found an unknown lady’s discarded garments, and selected some of those that she tried on, sending Kimble off down the secret passage to load them onto the horse she had borrowed—unbeknownst to its owner—from Father Saint-Simon.
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