And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true. A door, it may be remembered, opened from Wild's dwelling into this yard. Where can I have heard it!" "Devil knows," rejoined Blueskin. He reached out a hand gropingly, sagged, and toppled out of the chair to the floor, where he lay very still. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. As if he read her thought, he spoke it aloud. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced.
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