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XIII
The Stolen Queen
They were flying over the ground like wild creatures at a hunt, and Clotilde’s little heart was beating like a trip-hammer with excitement and fear. All of a sudden she heard a strange sound in front, and then an ugly exclamation from the robber who rode ahead of them. Jacques reined up Black Bête with a jerk. “What is the matter?” he growled, and there was a click of a pistol close beside Clotilde’s ear.
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