They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. " "And so this is my reward for having made you the tip-top cracksman you are," muttered Blueskin;—"to be turned off at a moment's notice, because I silenced a noisy woman. ‘Dead then, is he?’ ‘If I could say that he is dead, it would give me very much satisfaction. Her bonnet dropped off and was trampled into the gutter.
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