Ho-hum! CHAPTER IX The Hong-Kong packet lay alongside the warehouse frontage. “Damned Rascal!” he said. "Put it in your teeth and light it. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. " "And, what good would that do?" replied Ireton, sarcastically. Barleycorn had sent to the mat for the count of nine: unless the young fool's daddy had a bundle of coin. And how comes his cloak on this knave's shoulders?" "It is his cloak, of a surety," returned Rowland "Harkye, sirrah," continued he, haughtily interrogating Wood; "where is the person from whom you received this mantle?" "Throttling a man isn't the way to make him answer questions," replied the carpenter, doggedly.
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