"A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price to pay for doubtful secrecy, when certain silence might be so cheaply procured. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. McClintock's heart went out to Spurlock; he would always be the boy's friend, even though he had dragged this girl on to the rocks with him. ‘I think you know my affianced husband. “But Sebastian! I need them!” He smiled, not a smile of comfort, but a smile of terrible menace.
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