White said. It was you, of course, whom he wanted. He drew both his pistols, and prepared for a desperate encounter. Nor Jacques. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. There are boats on the lake and shady depths and wildernesses of pine-wood.
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