You're Mister Wild's pris'ner, and worse luck to it!" "I don't ask you to liberate me," urged Thames; "but will you convey a message for me?" "Where to, honey?" "To Mr. ’ Kimble frowned direfully, staring at the weapon with its gold hilt and decorative pattern down the blade. “But we satisfy one another. It is no fault of your own that you are not at this moment standing there with your head blown off. This is a noted place for highwaymen.
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