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"Worse than usual tonight, isn't it?" he asked in kindly tones. "Looks like it. Wonder who it kin be? Maybe somebody lookin' fer us." "'That's just where I don't want it left,' he says. 'I want it kept safe. I'll take a chance on dying suddenly.' And by George! the old fellow got up and shambled out, leaving a twenty-dollar gold piece on the table.".
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Conrad
Maurice drew her outside and closed the door. "Come over behind the woodpile, Ma, an' I'll tell you," he answered cautiously. "Here you, Joe, come back here and behave yourself," the master thundered and the dog turned and slunk back along the path. Shortly after midnight he softly turned the key in Lucy's door and looked in, and deeming that she lay asleep he passed in, closing the door behind him, that the roll of the ship might not slam the door and awaken the sleeper. The light was dim, but sufficiently clear for[Pg 306] eyes that had come out of the gloom or darkness. A mattress lay upon the deck close against the bedstead, which was emptied of its furniture, and upon this mattress was stretched the figure of Lucy Acton. She was fully dressed as in the day, save that she had removed her jockey-shaped hat. The bolster from the bedstead supported her head. Some of her dark hair had become disengaged and lay loosely about her cheek, giving the purity of marble to her brow in that light, and her sleep was so deep that she lay as though dead. On the deck close beside her grasp was a common table knife. Just here a step sounded on the gravel outside and a knock fell on the door. Maurice opened the door and in stepped Anson..
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