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"I haven't quite recovered the fright I got in the Vell-Hole," replied Abraham. She shivered, more due to his presence than the changing weather. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. The next moment, a heavy plunge told that the fugitive had been consigned to the waves. He looked down and met them.

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