When he awoke it was late in the day, and raining heavily. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. ‘Unless he is himself a man of substance. ” “Not exactly,” he answered nervously. His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. Dizziness overcame him like anesthetic and he slept. This was Blueskin, who burst through the trees, and sword in hand assaulted the thief-taker. “They ought to have been lopped in the spring.
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