"Jack!" she cried, raising her head. ‘Of course it is,’ corroborated Hilary. Behind them stalked Blueskin, enveloped in a rough great-coat, called—appropriately enough in this instance,—a wrap-rascal. Gosse sagged under the impact, knocking over the card table, and falling to sit, half stunned, the discharged pistol flying from his slackened grasp. . Before her was a great Gothic portal. And two other ladies.
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