He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. “Some day,” she answered. ‘Am I a fool? Can I blow off a head with a pistol which is not loaded?’ ‘She has a point,’ conceded Alderley, relaxing a little as amusement burgeoned again ‘Ten to one she is a French spy,’ burst from Roding.
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