There was no mistaking his intentions this time. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. ‘Jacques? You have done it? He is alive?’ ‘Oh, he’s alive, all right,’ confirmed the sergeant, putting the petrified Pottiswick—stockstill and staring in horror at the dagger—firmly out of his way and taking his place before Melusine. Nab and Quilt to the door! Jack, you are my prisoner.
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