She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. In the periphery of her vision, she saw the door pulled back. Barleycorn had sent to the mat for the count of nine: unless the young fool's daddy had a bundle of coin. By the light of a torch borne at the stern of the hostile wherry, he saw that the pursuers had approached within a short distance of the object of their quest.
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