"He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. Would she ever find it? Sighing, she opened the door to the next room, and drew back the drapes. "You will find it true," replied Blueskin. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him.
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