She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. But he was so feeble, that it seemed scarcely possible he could offer any effectual resistance in case of an attack. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. Spurlock had seen Rollo heading for the jungle, and for some reason he could not explain the incident had bothered him. Just as he reached them, the Comte de St Erme drew Valade a little apart and began to converse with him in rapid French.
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