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He has hanged twelve of his associates already. "Where are the packets committed to your charge by Sir Rowland Trenchard?" "The packets!" exclaimed Kneebone, in alarm. Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. I will not be sent away. m.
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