"What is it you want?" she asked, as she held out the coat. ’ Saling coughed. ‘Point it at me. I'm no mollycoddle. Two or three podgy-looking old men with wives to match, half-a-dozen overdressed girls, and a couple of underdressed American ones, who still wore the clothes in which they had been tramping half over London since breakfast time. Sheppard, and saw from her terrified look that she had made the same alarming discovery as himself. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped. He made her tell him the core of the difficulty. "Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat.
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