" "But I'm a poor man. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. With a drawn cutlass in one hand and a cocked pistol in the other, Blueskin rushed up stairs. Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. Ennison roused himself with an effort, took a long drink from his whisky and soda, and lit a cigarette.
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