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Her mouth was once more covered as they left the second floor guest saloon and headed for the back stairs. Hearing the noise of the scuffle, the tapstress, fancying it was Jack making an effort to escape, in spite of the remonstrances of the executioner, threw open the wicket. Cathy answered the phone. I was ready to wager that your name would have marched with one of them. “She has lost something,” he declared, “something which brought the men in crowds around the stage at the ‘Ambassador’s. I mean—I mean to do what I can.
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