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"Be silent," said Jonathan, in a menacing whisper. “I saw—they knocked off your fetters yesterday. Now then," he added more calmly, "I am ready to die. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. But it don't much matter—though he's a devilish shrewd fellow, and might have helped me out of a difficulty, had any occurred. Heliers.
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