‘Jacques? You have done it? He is alive?’ ‘Oh, he’s alive, all right,’ confirmed the sergeant, putting the petrified Pottiswick—stockstill and staring in horror at the dagger—firmly out of his way and taking his place before Melusine. The white cloth was instantly dyed with crimson; but, regardless of this, Jonathan continued his murderous assault. Groans and hoots were now raised by the crowd, and there was an evident disposition to rescue.
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