One could enter and leave by proa, but nothing with a keel could cross the coral gate. "I have saved the executioner a labour, by cutting his throat," replied Blueskin. Well, I told aunt. She was herself conscious of a recklessness of spirits almost hysterical. From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels.
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