"Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat. The benches running round the room, though fastened to the walls by iron clamps, had been forcibly wrenched off; while the table, which was similarly secured to the boards, was upset, and its contents—bottles, jugs, glasses, and bowls were broken and scattered about in all directions. " "If it were so, he would have great reason to be proud of the relationship, truly," observed Wood, shrugging his shoulders. He recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler. " "Of course," rejoined Kneebone, a little maliciously, "but that's easily accounted for. .
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