" "I can," rejoined Jack; "and you, too, old Aaron, if I'd a razor. Lucy sat in back of Jane Lenihan, who never spoke to her. They were familiar but more massive. He patted the hand on his sleeve. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. "But—sapperment!—I wish they hadn't broken my pipe. " "At your peril, sirrah!" cried Wood.
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