Chapter VI
A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION
The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly
through his gold eye-glasses. He had the air of a man who has said too much. I thought that Hill was dead, but I was frightened, and I wanted to get away
from Paris. "Wretch!" she cried, "you shall not force me to your hateful purpose. But it's best to be on the safe side. The
houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. She wanted to come,
and I wouldn't let her. "
"Let this speak for me," said Sheppard, tossing a heavy bag of money towards
him. ‘This,
as you see, is an identity for your cousin, André Valade. Believe me, Anna. The stranger looked at him as if strongly disposed to chastise his impertinence. At any rate, I can see that you’re not protecting
him at all.
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