I owed his father a grudge: that I settled long ago. The stench is everywhere. “I wish that I could forget it,” he said. And how comes his cloak on this knave's shoulders?" "It is his cloak, of a surety," returned Rowland "Harkye, sirrah," continued he, haughtily interrogating Wood; "where is the person from whom you received this mantle?" "Throttling a man isn't the way to make him answer questions," replied the carpenter, doggedly. " "Look at it, then," said Wild, giving him the portfolio.
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