. The militia offered little in the way of relief. And shall their wretched offspring live to blight my hopes, and blast my fame? Never!" And, with these words, he grasped Wood by the throat, and, despite his resistance, dragged him to the very verge of the platform. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. CHAPTER XI. Mere formality. Indeed I must. I bent over him. ’ ‘Then you’re mad,’ Roding said flatly, and suddenly grinned. \" He said, as he threw his trash into the can on the way out.
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