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. "But maybe I could have
helped him... done something!"
Bertina squeezed her brother-in-law's arm reassuringly
and shook her head. "We went there as soon as we heard,
Rubie and me." Her eyes were far away. "You mustn't blame
yourself."
Suddenly the front door slammed back against the stone
wall. "Isn't it just like 'Uncle Flint' to worry about his fam-
ily?" a new voice snarled sarcastically from the door. Flint
recognized it before he even looked up: Basalt. Their eyes
met. His nephew was no longer a youth of fifty. He had a
full beard, darker than his bright red hair, and a preponder-
ance of freckles beneath his sea-green eyes. Basalt was tall
for a dwarf, but it was more than height that gave him an
appearance of haughtiness.
"Basalt!" cried Bertina, rousing herself to leap to her feet,
smiling happily for the first time that evening. "Flint's here!
Your Uncle Flint's come home!" Flint, too, rose and stepped
toward his nephew, smiling warmly.
"I know." Something in Basalt's voice cast a pall over the
room. "I heard a few hours ago, down at Moldoon's."
Basalt's green eyes fixed Flint with a cold stare
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