The policeman raised his voice, slightly agitated. That is what I don't understand. There's something human about you now. James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day. But you belong to me—and I want you. The place, in which they stood, was a small entrance-chamber, cut off, like the segment of a circle, from the main apartment, (of which it is needless to say it originally constituted a portion,) by a stout wooden partition. The white cloth was instantly dyed with crimson; but, regardless of this, Jonathan continued his murderous assault.
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