"Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat. But it was the form of her ruling determination; it was the only form that she ever allowed to see daylight. " Without waiting for a reply, but darting a malevolent look at the prisoner, he quitted the cell, the door of which was instantly double-locked and bolted. A moment before he had been a strong man, she had been in his power, a poor helpless thing. .
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