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CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. Then she uttered a strangled, ‘Espéce de bête!’ and burst into tears. Her head ached with a hollow pain. . " The stranger was for a moment lost in reflection. The image did not move. . "I need not remind you, Sir Rowland, that I am aware you are deeply implicated in the Jacobite plot which is now known to be hatching.
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