Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. ‘No need to shake in your boots,’ Gerald said soothingly. Taking hold of the hilt of his own foil, he drew it forth. "Don't you hear those shouts? Yon fellow's clamour has brought the whole horde of jail-birds and cut-throats that infest this place about our ears. ‘Cousin? But I am a fool. He knows everything. Strike the gag, Blueskin.
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