" "That's the way it goes. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. You never can tell. However, I'd rather have a blow from the daughter than the mother. He regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day. " With this, he drew the spike from his pocket; and, drowning the sound of the operation by whistling, singing, shuffling, and other noises, contrived, in a few minutes, to liberate his companion from the handcuffs.
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