Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off. I was curious about that. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. It hardly served his interests. I’m talking to you now as though you had all the wisdom and charity in the world. The Night-Cellar XVIII.
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