" "Do you mock me?" cried Jack, levelling a pistol at him. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. Cut to pieces —slashed—bloodied. Would a hundred dollars interest you?" "Very much, if I can earn it without offending my conscience. Oh, it was very bad. CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. But I liked to say it. Before Jonathan followed he turned to face his assailants. A ball from Wild's pistol passed through his heart, and a volley of musketry poured from the guards lodged several balls in the yet breathing body of his leader.
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