He was holding the ring to the light, and narrowly examining the inscription. The other was to go into business—into a photographer’s reception-room, for example, or a costumer’s or hat-shop. A forgotten island beyond the ship lanes, where that grim Hand would falter and move blindly in its search for him! From what he had read, there wouldn't be much to do; and in the idle hours he could write. His eyes closed. "And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose.
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