Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. "What's that?" ejaculated the ruffian, glancing uneasily towards the window. Flinging her back against it, she put her hands out, barring his way. To be confronted with the girl’s damned Frenchman of a husband was another matter altogether. Give him this letter, child, and bid him take it to the Lodge at Newgate without loss of time.
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