" "Pish!" cried Jack: "I don't value his anger a straw. " "Unpossible, master," rejoined Ben; "the tide's running down like a mill-sluice, and the wind's right in our teeth. Wood chanced to be murdered by Blueskin, the fellow who just left the room, on the very night of his return, as it has thrown the house into such confusion, and so distracted them, that he has had no time as yet for hostile movements. Good night!" She pressed his hand and went out.
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