The watermen, who manned the larger wherry, immediately shipped their oars, grappled with the drifting skiff, and held it fast. He did not stagger in the least. She twanged the catgut under her fingers. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. He was a large oafish man, a man that seemed deceptively harmless, and some thought him slightly retarded.
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