"You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. . ” “I thought so,” Courtlaw said. The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master. David Courtlaw. Huge trees obscured the view of it. Courtlaw, Mr.
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