It was cheating, pitiful cheating. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. E. " "There you are, just as I said. Another door was next opened, and, preceded by the ordinary, with the sacred volume in his hand, the prisoner entered the room. 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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