"I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. "I have saved the executioner a labour, by cutting his throat," replied Blueskin. It was, in a way, something of a joke to the doctor: psychology and physiognomy on an island which white folks did not visit more than three or four times a year, only then when they had to. The afternoon had passed now into twilight. "Has Jack displeased you? If so, overlook his fault this once. This is simply a chapter of coincidences. Melusine had confessed this morning, that she had borrowed his horse, that Jack had met with his accident through her fault.
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