During this movement, Jack grasped the barrel of his pistol, held in his breath, and motioned to Blueskin, who bared a long knife, to keep still. “What do you think you are doing?” He asked. My profession has hardened me. ‘But how do you come here?’ ‘Down on a routine patrol, unluckily for you,’ he answered grimly. Like carpenter, like chips. The Ragged Edge.
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