Mac would have some new yarns to spin and a fresh turn-over to his celebrated liver. The fanatic has no such word in his vocabulary. "Drink your peg; don't bother about me. This key," he added, taking it from the boy, "was purloined from me by your father, Jack. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. Through the gloom he distinctly perceived the dome of St. Which were perfectly true, as Gerald was aware.
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