Wood, "it may be poisoned. “Just at present my mind simply won’t take hold of this at all. "And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. “I opened my eyes, and she was bending over my bedside. “DON’T!” she said, and wrenched her wrist from his retaining hand. That glove is still preserved.
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