Whatever he did, she was bound to scream. Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence. By this time, the procession had reached the west end of the wall of St. Montressor’s guests were. Meanwhile, the clergyman, bare-headed and in his surplice, advanced to meet them. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding.
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