She regarded the young man coldly. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. "Now's your time," cried Blueskin, struggling desperately with his assailants and inflicting severe cuts with his knife. She seemed to think he was merely the paymaster, handing over the means of her freedom.
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