He was—a millionaire. "In case he should consent—" "He never will," interrupted Winifred. He fell backwards on his butt, the wind knocked out of him. But the love of life prevailed over his fears. The only circumstance which served to awaken a darker feeling in his breast was, that his implacable foe Jonathan Wild had survived the wound inflicted by Blueskin, and was slowly recovering. "Ah!" exclaimed Jack, starting to his feet. " "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand.
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