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The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. Then he stepped briskly to his feet and bent over the wounded man. “You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. ” To her relief, Trodger sent one of his men posthaste to London with this missive, while the other went to fetch the horse, having been given precise directions on how to negotiate the passage so that he might find it at the other end. He was disquieted.
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