He was twenty-nine at the time, practically an old man. 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. Do not believe it, Madam. And you, Mademoiselle Melusine, will support this claim. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. Once they were below, McClintock turned upon the doctor.
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