CHAPTER IX. It's hereditary, like de jigt, vat you call it—gout —haw! haw!" "If the child is destined to the gibbet, Van Galgebrok," replied the Master, joining in the laugh, "it'll never be choked by a footman's cravat, that's certain; but, in regard to going back empty-handed," continued he, altering his tone, and assuming a dignified air, "it's quite out of the question. I suspect he has been at work upon those he has on. Clearly dazed, he stared, whispering an oath. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. What of madame, his wife?’ ‘You know more of her than me,’ the girl said with a look of scorn. Wood—" "That's false!" cried a voice behind him.
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