"Hist!" exclaimed Jack. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. "'Odd's-my-life!—what's that?" he cried, greatly alarmed. There was every indication that she fled the island in company with a dissolute rogue. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor.
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