He gave an order, the proa was floated and the sail run up. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face.
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