Blueskin drew the knife across his throat a second time, widening and deepening the wound; and wrenching back the head to get it into a more favourable position, would infallibly have severed it from the trunk, if the officers, who by this time had recovered from their terror, had not thrown themselves upon him, and withheld him. There was a strained, eager expression on his face. “Very well,” she would say, “then I must go. This whole affair is truly my fault. But Melusine’s own words had thrown an idea into her head. “You are of the genus obstinate,” he said.
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