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Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. ‘Perhaps I could indeed rescue you if only you would confide in me. "Can't I settle this business, Captain," muttered Blueskin, drawing a pistol.

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