Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. "For the caption!" replied Jackson, coolly drawing a brace of pistols from his pockets. "To go a little further. There was no point in rushing into the long walk home. What of that?" "Vot 'o that!" echoed Sharples, peevishly: "Everythin'. ‘Oh, peste.
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