" "What's that?" "Think it over," said McClintock, grimly. "You've won your wager. Little more’n a week. The child was now within reach; and, in another moment, he would have executed his deadly purpose, if an arm from behind had not felled him to the ground. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. What I said about your brat was all stuff. ” “It’s some sort of delirium,” said Capes.
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