A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient. " Figg turned aside to hide the tears that started to his eyes,—for the stout prizefighter, with a man's courage, had a woman's heart,—and the procession again set forward. It creaked slightly. “I MUST speak to you,” he said. "I'm afraid we'll have to dig into his trunk," he said. ‘For that I shall certainly not leave until you have told me every tiny detail.
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