She received into her slack grasp the pistol and dagger, only half aware of taking them. “My cab with all that luggage would give the whole show away. “I ought to look up Gwen,” she said. “I’m a big boy, you know. Somebody may be on the watch—perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. Man's fate is in his own hands.
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