"Don't look at it, I entreat," she cried. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. ‘Certainly you are imbecile. Go on and tell me. The blow was scarcely dealt, when, with a bound like that of a tiger, Blueskin sprang upon him. There was no response.
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