” She repeated, as if she answered an objector: “A sort of blacklegging. Ramage admitted the force of that. Presently he felt motion. I believe you’ve crushed a gland or something. But he reckoned without his host. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. She, however, had no idea of doing anything of the sort. In vain did the woollendraper offer to set him free if he would restore the stolen article, or give up his associate, to whom it was supposed he might have handed it. “No, don’t interrupt me.
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