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Through the open window sounded in their ears the trainlike grinding of the sea at the foot of the cliffs. "Krag must be in the tower after all," remarked Maskull, breaking the silence. "Yes, he is getting ready." "I hope he doesn't expect us to join him there. It was beyond my powers but why, heaven knows. The stairs must have a magnetic pull of some sort."
A high-bowed, shining mahogany cruiser, seventy feet or more over all, rounded the point and headed into the bay. The smooth sea parted with a whistling sound where her brass-shod stem split it like a knife. She slowed down from this trainlike speed, stopped, picked up a mooring, made fast. The swell from her rolled in, swashing heavily on the beach.
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