The assassination, as you call it, was, obviously, the vengeance of a kinsman of the injured lady, who no doubt was of good family, upon her seducer. " "Ay—ay," laughed Jonathan. Yet here you are, and at precisely the right moment, too. "You musht do dat shob yourself, Mishter Vild," rejoined Abraham, shaking his head. We must never let your father know we went.
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