She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her. Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side. His sword then came in for his scrutiny: he felt at, and appeared satisfied with its edge. "Fear nothing, Sir," said the man, in a voice which Thames instantly recognised as that of Blueskin. Besides, she had admitted her identity. Holcroft, we may have been mistaken.
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