She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry. “Mr. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. The guests congregated within the night-cellar were, in fact, little better than thieves; but thieves who confined their depredations almost exclusively to the vessels lying in the pool and docks of the river. This was Blueskin, who burst through the trees, and sword in hand assaulted the thief-taker. My nerves are shaken.
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