‘You do not want to be a nun,’ he said now, and Melusine noted with a prick at her senses the irritation in his tone. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. Certain information, it seems, has been received from a female, that Blueskin would be at a flash-ken near the Chase at five o'clock to-day, and they're all set out in the expectation of nabbing him. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. "Where is he?" asked she, in an agitated whisper.
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