"And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. Afraid there'll be a love-affair. Her long arms handled the sword with a memorized ease and grace. " "Iss, missis," grinned the black. "I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened. ’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky.
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