The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. "'Sblood!" exclaimed Jonathan, hastily thrusting the ring into his vest, and taking up a heavy horseman's pistol with which he had felled Blueskin,—"I thought you'd been senseless. ‘What do you do here?’ demanded the young lady, moving to meet him. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs.
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