"My demeanour ought to convince you that I came with no hostile intention. " "You talk boldly," replied Wild. ‘Dead then, is he?’ ‘If I could say that he is dead, it would give me very much satisfaction. ‘I agree with you. ‘Espéce de diable,’ she screamed. ” She spotted a beer bottle and picked it up from the ground. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. Speedily recovering himself, however, he rejoined, with forced calmness, "You are mistaken, Sir.
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