"Shir Rowland Trenchard's affair— eh?" "That's it," rejoined Jonathan; "I expect him here every minute. When he awoke it was late in the day, and he was surprised to find Blueskin seated by his bedside, watching over him with a drawn sword on his knee, a pistol in each hand, and a blood-stained cloth bound across his brow. If nothing else had clinched that, the purse had. " "In whose favour is it made?" he inquired, sternly. It’s just upon my lunch-time.
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