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Wogan was baffled; he was angered. "Have I ever told you lies?" he asked passionately, and she answered, "Yes," and steadily looked him in the face. The monosyllable quenched him like a pail of cold water. He stood silent, perplexed, trying to remember. "When?" he asked. "In the berlin between Brixen and Wellishmile." Wogan remembered that he had told her of his city of dreams.
"Lucy may be recovered then." Wogan shook his head. "The courier we stopped at Wellishmile was not the only man sent after us. Of that we may be very sure. Here are we five miles from safety, and while those five miles are still unbridged Listen!" Wogan leaned his head forward and held up his hand for silence. In the still night they could hear far away the galloping of a horse.
George, surprised and already to all purposes a prisoner, forced a way alone through nine grenadiers with loaded muskets and escaped over the roof-tops. It was a good breathless story as he told it, and he had just come to an end of it when the carriage drove through the village of Wellishmile and stopped at the posting-house. Wogan opened the door and shook Gaydon by the shoulder.
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