She lifted her shoulders in an eloquent shrug. The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. A long and secret conference then took place between the thief-taker and his myrmidons, after which they were severally dismissed. "What is it?" "The night," she answered. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. I don’t know.
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