Luckily, they were not easily discomposed. We were alike. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. "My heart," rejoined Thames, firmly; "which now tells me I am in the presence of his murderer. I'll put a brace of dogs on your track, who'll soon hunt you down. “Sufficient unto me is the change thereof,” he said, with all the effect of an epigram.
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