‘What is it?’ ‘Er—shouldn’t I tell—I mean, the young lady, sir—’ ‘You can leave the young lady to me. So it does. Blueskin drew the knife across his throat a second time, widening and deepening the wound; and wrenching back the head to get it into a more favourable position, would infallibly have severed it from the trunk, if the officers, who by this time had recovered from their terror, had not thrown themselves upon him, and withheld him. Most of the time, he was hunting and he returned at night. Certain it was, that the slightest sound aroused him. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. "On my return, I found the window open, and the room vacant. No doubt she was wondering what he had done in Charvill’s house and what he intended now. I'll keep a look out that nothing happens. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing.
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