" O'Higgins produced his wallet. ’ ‘As a matter of fact, it isn’t,’ conceded Gerald. . A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. Uttering a terrible imprecation, Blueskin placed the knife between his teeth, and endeavoured to seize the poor woman by the throat. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe.
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