He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. What could I do at home? The other’s a crumple-up—just surrender. The moment my escape is known, a large reward will be placed on my head. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. Well, that’s the situation.
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