"What is it you want of me?" "All you know about this young fellow Spurlock. A hundred pounds to the man who takes him. There was a very substantial profit in the transaction, for he paid the natives in commodities—coloured cotton cloths, pipes and tobacco, guns and ammunition, household utensils, cutlery and glass gewgaws. "Once there," proceeded Wild, without noticing the interruption, "he's as good as in his grave. Loans will just ruin my life because I need so many of them. And if you mean to use that dagger to slip the lock, you’ll make enough noise to bring ten spies down on us. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. She began to think persistently of Capes, and it seemed to her now that for some weeks at least she must have been thinking persistently of him unawares.
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