Amid the confusion, Shotbolt sprang to his feet, and levelling a pistol at Jack's head, commanded him to surrender; but, before any reply could be made, the jailer's arm was struck up by Blueskin, who, throwing himself upon him, dragged him to the ground. Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face. The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. . ’ ‘Yes, that rather leapt to the eye,’ Gerald said, and the faint smile sent a lick of warmth down inside her. “If you think it worth while,” she answered doubtfully.
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