" "I'll see where these footsteps lead to," said Blueskin, holding the light to the floor. A woman touched him lightly on the arm, and smiled into his face. A swift frown brought the still dark brows together for a moment. In those revolutionary times one had to be prepared. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. “Dear friend,” she said, “do not magnify me into a physiological problem.
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