You foolish girl!” Ann Veronica took that in silence. He got up. “I will put the question,” Drummond said gravely. Naturally it all came out then. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him.
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