When he awoke it was late in the day, and he was surprised to find Blueskin seated by his bedside, watching over him with a drawn sword on his knee, a pistol in each hand, and a blood-stained cloth bound across his brow. Diable. His manner, however, was as stern and haughty as ever, and his glances retained their accustomed fire. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. But we cannot discuss this here. I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. A tarnish of constraint that had recently spread over her intercourse with Capes vanished again.
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