Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. Lucy looked down, noticing that Michelle had left her shoes in the entryway. "It is not too late to repair the wrong I have done my nephew," cried Trenchard. 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.
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