Such of his features as were visible were of coarse mould. This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. It was she! The Dawn Pearl! He vaulted the veranda rail, careless now whether or not he was heard, and ran down to the beach. . ’ ‘Charvill, then,’ Gerald concluded, unperturbed. He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. The whole was then fired, and in a few minutes the room was a blaze.
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