It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. Amid the confusion, Shotbolt sprang to his feet, and levelling a pistol at Jack's head, commanded him to surrender; but, before any reply could be made, the jailer's arm was struck up by Blueskin, who, throwing himself upon him, dragged him to the ground. No pistols, no daggers today?’ ‘Would you have me show a pistol with so many soldiers? I am not a fool.
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