Part 4 MY DEAR VEE, he wrote. He staggered back a few paces; and, before he could recover himself, Thames tripped up his heels, and, placing the point of the spike at his throat, threatened to stab him if he attempted to stir, or cry out. Will you let me go out of this room?” “No,” cried Ramage; “hear me out! I’ll have that satisfaction, anyhow. Marvel.
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