His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. Advancing towards the Master, and claiming an audience, which was instantly granted, Jonathan, without much circumlocution, related the sum of the strange story he had just learnt from Wood, omitting nothing except a few trifling particulars, which he thought it politic to keep back; and, with this view, he said not a word of there being any probability of capturing the fugitive, but, on the contrary, roundly asserted that his informant had witnessed that person's escape. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. You will only make me hurt you the more.
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