I bound him up good and tight, stuffed his mouth with a length of rope, taped it shut. A little Madeira seemed to recover her enough to resume the discussion. He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank. By the by, my dear, I forgot to ask your name—perhaps you'll oblige me with it now? Hell and the devil!—gone!" He looked around in vain.
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