"He must have gone this way," muttered Blueskin. The novel danger of the situation enthralled him. He rose at once to his feet and turned a white face upon her. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. “Want one?” Michelle deadpanned.
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