But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. She dismissed the whole subject with a little shrug of the shoulders. “By Jove!” he exclaimed. "Kidnapped, and sent to France by one uncle, it was my lot to fall into the hands of another,—my father's own brother, the Marshal Gaucher de Chatillon; to whom, and to the Cardinal Dubois, I owed all my good fortune. It was neither good nor bad. She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. Gerald watched her vanish into the darkness, unusually incensed.
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