It clicked and the bookshelf was once more intact. Anyhow he confessed that he was a fraud. "Do you not know me, father?" said the young man, advancing towards him, and warmly grasping his hand. " "All right, Mr. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack. And, turning to his daughter, he gave the necessary directions in a low tone.
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