\" He piped up. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. Sheppard, vainly trying to discover a gleam of compassion in the thief-taker's inexorable countenance,—"Mercy! mercy!" "Pshaw!" rejoined Jonathan. ’ She bit her lip, and then turning her face away, emitted another sigh. "Your sympathy is being wasted. .
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