’ ‘Yes, but I need a word with Gerald,’ protested the captain, hanging back. Nobody can trust you. Blueskin drew the knife across his throat a second time, widening and deepening the wound; and wrenching back the head to get it into a more favourable position, would infallibly have severed it from the trunk, if the officers, who by this time had recovered from their terror, had not thrown themselves upon him, and withheld him. The young man opposite was straining his ears to listen to their conversation.
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