"Safe!" shouted Darrell, as he effected a secure landing. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites. ‘Merci, Joan,’ cried Melusine, moving to her and seizing her hand which she clasped between both her own for a moment, as she turned to the others. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. But he was wide awake.
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