"So you're writing under a nom de plume, eh?" said McClintock, holding out the letter. There he was, standing with a group of men who she presumed to be the other richest men in the world. It was then that the young man entered his thought with some permanency: because there was no apparent reason for his joining the tour, since from the beginning he had shown no interest in anything. Are you now satisfied?" "No," interposed Wood, furiously, "I shall never be satisfied till I see you hanged on the highest gibbet at Tyburn.
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