“You are coming my way,” Courtlaw answered. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. “I saw—they knocked off your fetters yesterday. He drew both his pistols, and prepared for a desperate encounter. “I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. Around him were all the evidences of plenty. I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. "It is plain he has been destroyed by his perfidious accomplice," rejoined Thames.
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