CHAPTER XII. Guns were impossible. He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. "If I had my old tools with me, we'd soon master this obstacle," he muttered. " The doctor hesitated, puffing his tobacco hastily. " "You had better write them for me, Mr. F. . Towards this box Sharples directed his steps, and, unlocking a hatch in the door, disclosed a recess scarcely as large, and certainly not as clean, as a dog-kennel.
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