With a drawn cutlass in one hand and a cocked pistol in the other, Blueskin rushed up stairs. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. Marina doted over her pregnant daughter, adorned in fine brocades, reassuring her that it was certain to be a either a baby boy or a girl of such great beauty she would eclipse them both. There haven't been so many ladies in the Lodge since the days of Claude Du Val, the gentleman highwayman; and they all declare it'll break their hearts if he's scragged.
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