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Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question. "I am no murderer," replied Sheppard. It was of no use, she let him do it as she could not be strangled. “Yes, I see that. " "My death will lie at your door," remarked Jackson to the carpenter. ’ ‘I don’t know,’ confessed Gerald. McClintock's was a plantation of ten thousand palms, yielding him annually about half a million nuts. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. “Why, I do not know. My arm's nearly well again. ” Miss Stanley turned to her. She had better escape if she can.
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