"Go—go!" "I see what you mean," rejoined Blueskin, tossing a large case-knife, which he took from his pocket, in the air, and catching it dexterously by the haft as it fell; "you owe Jonathan a grudge;—so do I. The girl regarded him with the face of a Sphinx. He breathed a little sigh of satisfaction. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces.
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