The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. ‘There you have soldiers. A fierce struggle ensued. ‘In fact you admitted only that you had no more weapons. 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.
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