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“Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. 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. He caressed her tenderly, with no trace of the Sebastian who had previously knocked her off her feet with a slap across the mouth. Things hung for a moment in an awkward silence.
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