John knew everybody, it seemed. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. He proceeded to the deck, where Ruth and McClintock were waiting for him by the ladder. Others pulled hats over their noses, cowered in their seats, and feigned that all was right with the world. The latch came with a weak click.
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