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I shall find him yet. I just wanted a breath of air. "Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. If Jack should die, all though her fault, she could never forgive herself. The meat was coarse and disagreeably served. No one in the world is beyond the shaft of scandal— we all catch it terribly sometimes.
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