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With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. “Nothing so base. " "Don't say so," cried Mrs. Sir Rowland laid his hand upon his sword. "Taber," said the manager; "Taber is the name. She was, she guessed, close to the library. So long as she stood beside him, the Hand would not prevail. ‘Thanks to him, Hilary and I nearly had our heads blown off.
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