Racing, he reached it perhaps a moment or two later. Her pa was only the smithy. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. “If it’s about that dance project,” he said, “it’s no good, Veronica. Blueskin, who had evaded me with the papers and the money, is a prisoner here, and will perish on the same gallows as yourself.
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