Perhaps I am still mad. What are you after?’ ‘But my pistol and dagger, imbecile,’ she exclaimed impatiently, moving sharply back. It was no easy matter to determine her age, for, though she still retained a certain youthfulness of appearance, she had many marks in her countenance, usually indicating the decline of life, but which in her case were, no doubt, the result of constant and severe indisposition. Oh, you must believe me. They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in. Pain sliced into Gerald’s hand and his sword arm jerked. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake,” she said.
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