He entered it; crossed the room, in which there was only a small truckle-bed, over which he stumbled; opened another door and gained the stair-head. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. There was, in fact, only one clear thought in his fevered brain: he had reached the hotel without falling down. Before a month has elapsed, your mother will be mine.
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