By the light of a torch borne at the stern of the hostile wherry, he saw that the pursuers had approached within a short distance of the object of their quest. The picture of Mary Remenham was still on the wall. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. ‘Or flew in by balloon, perhaps. It was Missy and Michelle in her grandmother's old Buick. The doctor drew out the contents hopefully.
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