” “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” He accused. "For the caption!" replied Jackson, coolly drawing a brace of pistols from his pockets. And talking of every conceivable thing. At least I imagine so, if what Madame Valade claims is true. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. The latter no sooner beheld him than he dashed hastily into an adjoining room.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMjEuMTAwLjIzMyAtIDAyLTA3LTIwMjQgMTk6NDc6MTQgLSAxMDc4MzMzMzQz
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