Behind them stalked Blueskin, enveloped in a rough great-coat, called—appropriately enough in this instance,—a wrap-rascal. What’s the name of the happy man?” Gwen owned to “Fortescue. Besides, you've secrets which must not be disclosed. Her aunt was a long time before she answered. Almost instantly she had recognized the fallacy of such a statement. The door was locked; but, with the bars of iron, it was speedily burst open.
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