"Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat. “You haven’t seen him in three hundred years?” He asked. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. I came back to say, that I've placed your nephew in a coach; and, if you'll be at my lock in the Old Bailey an hour after midnight, you shall hear the last tidings of him.
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