"Mac, did you ever run across a missioner by the name of Enschede?" "Enschede?" McClintock stared at the ceiling. Do you understand?” “I do not,” he answered. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. " But he searched in vain. ’ ‘Glad you’re so sanguine,’ interrupted Captain Roding. ” “Thank you,” Anna answered coldly. To have written a short story in a week was rather a remarkable feat.
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