Sniveling brats, little fatherless bastards, you should breathe a sigh of relief. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. The door was opened, and Austin entered the cell, when he absolutely recoiled before the spectacle he beheld, and could scarcely have looked more alarmed if the prison had tumbled about his ears. “Damn! Things are getting plainer.
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