"Why, of hanging the fellow who acts as his jackal; one Blake, or Blueskin, I think he's called. Gay," he added, turning to the poet. . ” The conversation hung. "We were talking shop," said McClintock, rising. ’ He bowed slightly, and indicated the house behind them with a wave of his hand. Stanley regarded his neighbor’s clean-shaven face almost warily. "You mistake,—you are mine.
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