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“You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. His father was one of my old customers, and I am happy to find his son treading in his steps. Or perhaps my father once. . They were really very fine and abundant, with a blaze of perennial sunflowers behind them. Suspicion was in his face. I almost wish we hadn't come. Jack's former attempt to pass up the chimney, it may be remembered, was obstructed by an iron bar. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled.
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