\" She handed the ticket seller, a boy that looked to be all of eighteen years old, murder money that she had stolen from Dawn Plote's dead son, five dollars. ’ ‘Pah!’ ‘Precisely. " At the mention of the latter occurrence, a dark cloud gathered upon the stranger's brow. Sheppard in a troubled voice, "that if I lost my child, I should lose all I have left in the world. ” “What do you want?” he asked, bluntly.
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