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Wood, "and take your son with you. Made me fetch up Trodger and a couple more men, and together we searched his luggage and got hold of every single paper the man possessed. You see, I—I am a woman worshipper. ” He followed up a line of thought. "At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up. ’ ‘Not dead, miss. " As he spoke, the door of the round-house was opened, and a stout man, with a lantern in his hand, presented himself at the threshold. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent.
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