Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. I worshipped women long before I found any woman I might ever hope to worship. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready. He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks. All seemed infected with Austin's terrors except Mrs. I went off to round up his wife. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad.
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