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. "Fear nothing, Sir," said the man, in a voice which Thames instantly recognised as that of Blueskin. “Are there others like you?” “Yes. ” He smiled and buzzed her in to the glass doors, which opened by an unseen electronic hand. ‘How dull it must have been for you, poor little one. Don't be afraid—I won't hurt you. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration.
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