The chair was torture. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor. Once again, he passed his hand over the surface and carefully noted all the obstacles. You're in luck to-night, widow. The thing is done. Speedily recovering himself, however, he rejoined, with forced calmness, "You are mistaken, Sir. All at once he recollected the fact that McClintock's copra plantation was down that way, somewhere in the South Seas; had an island of his own.
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