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He got off on it. . The south-east end of the island was hillocky, with volcanic subsoil. McClintock stared into the bowl of his pipe and Spurlock into his coffee cup. “Is it your maid?” he asked. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. “I’ve thought about it. During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword.
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