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He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. Perhaps the boys had already faced off and he had missed it, he thought sourly. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. He heard the struggle on the landing, the fall of the heavy body, the groan,—and excited almost to frenzy by his fears, he succeeded in forcing open the door. E.
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