Tol-de-rol!" As Jack concluded his ditty, the door flew open with a crash, and Thames sprang through the aperture. "To me?" gasped Winifred. "It is never too late. The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. "Fear nothing, Sir," said the man, in a voice which Thames instantly recognised as that of Blueskin. She offers me no explanation, permits me absolutely no hope. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite.
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