Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. And you know all about that shot. A ball from Wild's pistol passed through his heart, and a volley of musketry poured from the guards lodged several balls in the yet breathing body of his leader. Lucy heard a stir, but if Dawn Plote were to arise and come into the room, it could only mean two murders tonight. She fell asleep instantaneously, fatigued from weeks of exhaustion.
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