But no more of that. “Politics!” Ennison answered grimly. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. She felt she was now near her boy, and, nothing doubting her ability to rescue him from his perilous situation, she breathed a fervent prayer for his deliverance; and bending her steps towards the tavern in question, revolved within her mind as she walked along the best means of accomplishing her purpose. From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels. Nothing could occupy her attention long today, unless it concerned her situation. “Do not force me to take you seriously,” she continued. As if he read her thought, he spoke it aloud. The door is open, so it is needless to ask leave to enter.
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