Blueskin drew the knife across his throat a second time, widening and deepening the wound; and wrenching back the head to get it into a more favourable position, would infallibly have severed it from the trunk, if the officers, who by this time had recovered from their terror, had not thrown themselves upon him, and withheld him. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. By his side sat a remarkably stout dame, to whom he paid as much attention as it was in his iron nature to pay. " "Stick the spike into him, then," returned Sheppard, coolly, "while I unbar the outlet. ‘Up, Jacques, up,’ she ordered.
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