"Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat. “You know very well that she is selfish and pleasure-loving to the backbone. Then he sensed the trap. Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power. "By all means," returned Wood; "don't delay an instant.
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