To-night we leave for Marseilles. Sheppard, clasping him with a hand that burnt with fever, "I have been ill—dreadfully ill—I believe delirious—I thought I should have died last night—I won't tell you what agony you have caused me—I won't reproach you. "But, where's the strange gentleman I saw under the table?" "Under the table!" echoed Blueskin, winking at Jack.
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