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Jackson smiled and put on the air of a man who knows more than he cares to tell. "Why, of hanging the fellow who acts as his jackal; one Blake, or Blueskin, I think he's called. He installed Anna in a comfortable easy chair, and placed his own between her and the door. "That's not an easy question to answer," rejoined Blueskin. “There’s no one here except me. You must be lonely here with only a few men friends. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses.
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