‘Come, mademoiselle, it is of no use to conceal anything from me, you know. “You did your best to kill me,” he said. He loaded the launch with a thousand pounds—all she could carry—and started home immediately after sundown; but even then he lost from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds before he had the stuff cached in McClintock's bamboo-covered sawdust pit. “It is too late for visitors,” she remarked. Then she went below.
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