Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. Habits and tastes are no longer the same. ‘My God!’ he said, ‘I’ll go after them and kill him. ” TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Typesetting and editing of the original book from which this e-text has been transcribed was inconsistent. “Oh, I know you would stop me if you could. “There are policemen—and buses.
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