Molly was excited. The hour was eleven o’clock. They had managed to creep out of the Holden mansion without being observed. As they hurried along the sandy beach to Hadsea, Molly reflected that this was surely much more exciting than a London Season. Even more exciting than meeting King Edward himself! Mary felt that her adored sister was making some dreadful mistake. Both were huddled in long plaid capes over their school dresses. It was a bright moonlit night and the sea spread out to their left like a sheet of silver, the only sound in the quiet night being the soft sibilant whispering of the tiny waves on the beach. The warm glow from an oil lamp lit up the kitchen at the back of the post office. The postmistress was nervously waiting for them. “I must be mad,” she whispered, handing Molly the gun. She watched in amazement as Molly expertly snapped it open and began loading it with a practiced hand. “What if Constable Jenkins should see you?” Mr. Jenkins was the town policeman.
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