From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels. He was holding the ring to the light, and narrowly examining the inscription. And where was that devil? Had the soldiers found him? She could not think he had escaped, for she had only just made it into the passage as they entered the library. "Very well. ” She shrugged her shoulders and led him towards a small recess. One of them was a stout square-built man, with a singularly swarthy complexion, and harsh forbidding features.
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