And before Kneebone could draw his sword, he felled him to the ground with the iron bar. She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright. ‘Gérard!’ ‘Yes, it’s I,’ he said, and grinned. "What are you waiting for?" asked Jack, impatiently. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face.
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