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"Then you need no further information from me," rejoined Jackson, sternly. And, in spite of the boy's resistance, he plunged his hands into his pockets, and drew forth the miniature. “It’s a nice holiday. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. ‘This is altogether insupportable!’ She dug a hand into the recesses of the petticoat of her riding habit and a moment later Gerald found himself once again confronting the barrel of her overlarge and tarnished pistol.
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