"Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. "Mind, I, Rykhart Van Galgebrok predict it. "You're only twenty—not legally of age. No, you don’t!” Ennison had moved stealthily a little nearer to him, and looked suddenly into the dark muzzle of the revolver. “I must live, you know. “Please have a seat.
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