All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. Locked! He sped out to the corridor and went swiftly into the next room. But finding his hints totally disregarded, he, at length, swaggered up to the table, and thrust in a chair. "Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat. " "You will remain longer than you anticipate," muttered Wild.
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