“Very well,” he said. CHAPTER XX. "So you're writing under a nom de plume, eh?" said McClintock, holding out the letter. And all this time perhaps you have been waiting, expecting to hear from me. A large dog was then set at him by a stable-boy; but, striking the animal with his faithful iron-bar, he speedily sent him yelping back. Put him in the stocks, and there let him sleep off his drunken fit. By the will of Mr. It was that somebody had cheated you.
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