Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power. Kneebone's cheeks glowed with rage, and he set down the wine untasted, while Blueskin resumed his song. His eyes flashed as he turned towards her. Gerald pressed against the wall, and signalled Roding to go to the other side of the door.
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