"Past noon," replied Blueskin. Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint. Jonathan cast a hasty glance around, to see that all was properly arranged for his purpose; placed a chair with its back to the door; disposed the lights on the table so as to throw the entrance of the room more into shadow; and then flung himself into a seat to await Sir Rowland's arrival. But his grief was of short duration. " "Do you mock me?" cried Jack, levelling a pistol at him.
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