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Only a few, but enough for me to understand that some act had driven you to this part of the world, where the hunted hide. “The fellow is not such a blackguard, after all. ’ The sergeant’s air became positively avuncular. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. To be no longer with Martha was strange.
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