"But you've given me what I don't possess. Only first you must find the lantern and light it again and leave it here, near the door, for me to find. Was she interested in that young ass who was risking his bones over there in the city? They had come up on the same boat. "Where are the packets committed to your charge by Sir Rowland Trenchard?" "The packets!" exclaimed Kneebone, in alarm. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl.
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