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He moaned. " "Who's lost?" demanded Ireton. It was partly to pay a grudge he had against father. The oaken beam, nine inches in thickness, was now the sole but most formidable obstacle to his flight. "Take a drop of brandy before we start, watchman," said Wood, pouring out a glass of spirit, and presenting it to Terence, who smacked his lips as he disposed of it. "'Odd's-my-life!—what's that?" he cried, greatly alarmed. “Yes. And so is your companion,—the convict Sheppard. ‘Pray do not trouble yourself, Saling.
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