No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. ‘You are related to General Lord Charvill?’ ‘Monsieur le baron, he is my grandpére,’ she confirmed. There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded.
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