"Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. “I am. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. The latter appeared to contain several papers, which Jack carefully put by, in the hope that they might turn out of importance in a scheme of vengeance which he meditated against the thief-taker. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. He looked from the sword to the dagger with which he had brought her down here, and grimaced. Cathy chimed.
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