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"Are you his ghost, then?" "No—no," answered Jack. ” “You remembered. Seemed like he knew so much—more than me, miss. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. “I wonder if you will?” “Let me say one thing,” he said. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache.
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