I think we rest here until to-morrow?” There was a brief silence. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. The chain, which had been partially cut through, snapped near the staple. But Blueskin was not to be silenced.
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