Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. He had heard everything. He had done this a dozen times on the way from his office. "Perhaps that would have been best. I have a hundred of them—mixed blood—on my island, and they are always rooking me. I spent agonizing weeks wandering Mantua in search of you, finally arriving at the idea of asking someone who you were. Open that bottle with a blue seal, my dear. It’s all right.
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