His age was not far from fifty. He drew a little sigh of relief. ’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. While he was filling his pockets with golden coin from this store, Blueskin had pulled the plate-chest from under the bed, and having forced it open, began filling a canvass bag with its contents,—silver coffee-pots, chocolate-dishes, waiters trays, tankards, goblets, and candlesticks.
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