“He’s a Fellow of the Royal Society, and he can’t be much over thirty,” said Miss Klegg. He had nothing to guide him; for though the torches were blazing ruddily below, their gleam fell only on the side of the building. But not finding it, he had again recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish its hold. " "Well, that's fine. Jack now carefully closed the shutters, while Blueskin struck a light, with which he set fire to a candle.
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