” “You can’t be killed?” He asked. Hidden menace; a prescience of something dreadful about to happen. The hard work will be his, until we yank this young fellow back from the brink. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. To make sure work of it, I'll superintend the job myself. You have threatened to kill me for nothing, I know not how many times.
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