I really cannot have anything to do with Mr. Covering his face with a crape mask, and taking the candle from his associate, Jack entered the room; and, pistol in hand, stepped up to the bed, and approached the light to the eyes of the sleepers. "Perhaps," replied Wood, doubtfully. A bad one in a rough-and-tumble; all the water-front tricks. “So it’s like you’re a dead end?” He asked innocently.
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