Did he see him, this Monsieur Charvill?’ ‘I don’t rightly know, miss,’ confessed Kimble. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. We’ll make short work of them. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. And the woollen-draper departed. ‘Very well, Kimble. What is it that you wish from me? You would like to arrest me for spying? Very well, arrest me.
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