"Shall I fetch the light, Captain?" whispered Blueskin. “You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man. ‘Or do I arrest you and have these soldiers march you off to gaol?’ A sweep of his arm indicated the array of military strength on the benches, every eye of which was trained on the little scene being enacted before them. Barring that the Valade fellow had sneaked back. Glancing towards him she saw that a shadow had fallen upon his face. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside.
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