“I hope you realize,” he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, “that I am in earnest—very much in earnest. They had heard nothing, seen nothing. Darting forward at this sound, Jack threw open the door, and beheld Quilt kneeling over Thames, who'se hands and feet were bound with cords, and about to plunge his sword into his breast. Years ago I marked out an intinerary for myself; but the trip never materialized. He did not come out of his chloroform coma and sailed weakly to his death.
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