At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. ” Sir John frowned. You said that it would bring trouble. "Now's your time," cried Blueskin, struggling desperately with his assailants and inflicting severe cuts with his knife. I struck him across the face, twisted the steering wheel of the motor, sprang out myself, and left him for dead on the road with the motor on top of him. "I can do without it," muttered Jack. There's our young friend upstairs.
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