" "Iss, missis," grinned the black. “Hello, John. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. It was Blueskin. After you went he got up and took refuge in the preparation-room. Amid the confusion, Shotbolt sprang to his feet, and levelling a pistol at Jack's head, commanded him to surrender; but, before any reply could be made, the jailer's arm was struck up by Blueskin, who, throwing himself upon him, dragged him to the ground. ‘That will be very helpful to me.
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