Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. "In the devil's name, is that you, Jack!" ejaculated Kneebone. "Your detective has been remiss in his duty; let him suffer for it. A forgotten island beyond the ship lanes, where that grim Hand would falter and move blindly in its search for him! From what he had read, there wouldn't be much to do; and in the idle hours he could write. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection.
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