He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. There was also a curious interview at a big hotel with a middle-aged, white-powdered woman, all covered with jewels and reeking of scent, who wanted a Companion. While he was thus musing, two horsemen rode past him; and, proceeding to a little distance, stopped likewise.
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