" "What ho! Blueskin!" shouted Jack. “There ought to be some means of getting at him,” he said. " "From some of your associates?" "From your uncle, from my uncle,—Sir Rowland Trenchard. " "'No doubt,'" said Wood, who had again turned over the leaves of the sacred volume—', "no doubt this man is a murderer, whom, though he escaped the seas, yet vengeance suffereth not to live'. " "My boots! Fire and fury! They won't fit you; they are too large.
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