It is a plain case of alcoholic stupor. Besides, it is all reversed now, you know. My death, probably. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. "Well," she said, in reply, "I may have done Jack an injustice. Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls. I've got to know why. At the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, unmarked. Such was his fury, that if he had not been restrained by the presence of the two turnkeys, he might perhaps have anticipated the course of justice, by laying violent hands upon his victim.
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