" Sir Rowland moved irresolutely towards the door, but recoiled before a sad spectacle. She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. “We will convince him now to the contrary,” Annabel answered. 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. Instead of which they walked sharply. .
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