"Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. Wood fared still worse. \" Lucy said. Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. And now—Dear! Dear! The dayspring from on high hath visited me. ‘Now let’s have it. . I am suspected of having shot the man. His commissions this day would not fill his metal pipe with one wad of tobacco. "Yes," replied Jack. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. Spurlock sat limply, his arms hanging.
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