The next moment, a heavy plunge told that the fugitive had been consigned to the waves. But you must tell her. Of course. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. The fellow Kimble, to whom Gerald was indebted, was gaping. Ah Cum was not a sailor, but he knew his water-front. Earles glanced at it, and his eyes flashed with anger. Aunt Jane had her quiet moments.
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