"You are, Sir," thundered Jonathan; "and, unless you find him, you shan't hold your place a week. ‘It will suit me very well that you go away, because you are a person without sense and I do not wish to talk to you. With a drawn cutlass in one hand and a cocked pistol in the other, Blueskin rushed up stairs. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. What had actually beaten him was not to have known if someone had picked up his trail. That boy," he added, looking at Thames, "has his eye upon us. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands.
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