Lucy grabbed its handle, her broken bones mending inside her causing her to wince in pain. She formed a wild resolution, and, lest she should waver from it, she set about at once to realize it. ‘No one would credit that you are three years older than I. 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. He, therefore, desires to interrogate him.
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