Days later, Sebastian found her by the lake, sobbing. F. Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. To Gerald’s eye, the refugees therefore presented a rather forlorn little group, almost huddling together and chattering in low tones in their own tongue. One glance swept across the place and it was immediately apparent that Pottiswick had not, this time, been mistaken. He dared not go on. Not the most stringent search, conducted all morning, turned up one solitary sheet.
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