McClintock does it; and he knows why. "You are my prisoner, Jack. Now I ain’t saying as how that there Pottiswick—’ ‘How you talk,’ interrupted Melusine impatiently. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket.
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