" "I was sure you wouldn't injure me, Captain," remarked Quilt, in a wheedling tone, while he felt about for his sword; "you're far too brave to strike a fallen man. You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. . ’ The eyes flashed momentarily.
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