As he took his departure, he whispered to the Jew: "Take him dead or alive; but if we fail now, and you heard him aright in Seacoal Lane, we are sure of him at his mother's funeral on Sunday. He drew an awed breath. Kneebone's cheeks glowed with rage, and he set down the wine untasted, while Blueskin resumed his song. Light flooded the uncarpeted chamber, revealing the decayed state of the place.
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