In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. Holcroft, we may have been mistaken. . “You were born for great things,” he said huskily. I—I am a lovesick idiot, and not accountable for my actions. Well, I was all for dragging in Bow Street there and then, and getting the pair of those fraudsters thrown in gaol. At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold.
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