" "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. The intense darkness added to the terror of the storm. " "One word before I go," urged Blueskin. Don’t take my word for it though. I don’t feel it. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether.
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