“I was sick of the make-believe. Not many years ago, two men, employed on this duty, quarrelled during the night, and in the morning their bodies were found stretched upon the pavement of the yard beneath. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. It was too good to be true. "You needn't gag me," he added, "I'll not cry out. All my plans have succeeded. From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. Then she examined with curiosity some knick-knacks upon a small round table by her side.
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