What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank. “It was perhaps my fault. But it would serve. And look down, so. Whence she came,—who she was,—and what she wanted,—were questions which naturally suggested themselves to Blueskin, and he was about to seek for some explanation, when his curiosity was checked by a gesture of silence from the lady. Capital swordsman.
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