"I leave this bowl for you," he cried, returning it to the landlord untasted. She wanted to turn him. All about her, hither and yon, lay the enticing Unknown. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. The doctor drew out the contents hopefully. ***** From the comatose state, Spurlock passed into that of the babbling fever; but that guarding instinct which is called subconsciousness held a stout leash on his secret.
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