"Fear nothing, Sir," said the man, in a voice which Thames instantly recognised as that of Blueskin. "As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. Melusine did not pause, but reached down to grasp the hilt of his sword and lift it.
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