“I drink your very good health, Sir John and Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “and I wish you a pleasant journey back to England. Selecting a key from the heavy bunch committed to him by Austin, he threw open the door, and beheld Blueskin seated at the back of the small chamber, handcuffed, and with his feet confined in a heavy pair of stocks. And I have seen work by his pupils myself that struck me as being—well, next door to shameful. ‘How is your plan now, mon brave?’ Melusine taunted. The letter will explain all.
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