This niggardliness compelled him to cross and recross streets. 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. The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back. Perceiving he was about to take leave, Kneebone ventured to ask whom he had had the honour of addressing.
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