“Why, I do not know. He drew an awed breath. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. But about dat jonker," he continued, lowering his voice; "have you anything to add consarnin' him? It's almosht a pity to put him onder de water. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly.
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