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“You know what? You’re right. Once more he was the searcher. ” Brendon reappeared, followed by a tall thin man with a stubbly brown moustache and restless grey eyes. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. Martha had been more to her than that. "Dawn Pearl!… come here!" She moved to the side of the bed.
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