It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. He sat on the bed, throwing aside his hat. “But I am at singing-pitch. "We'll give them the slip yet, and hang that butcherly thief-taker upon his own gibbet. ‘If it is that your men there are going to arrest us, then why do they not do so?’ ‘Left to myself, I’d let them,’ he replied grimly. " Then he became merciful. This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ3LjY4LjIwMCAtIDMwLTA2LTIwMjQgMDk6MDA6MDEgLSAzNTgxODE0NA==
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