I knew that someone—someone who used that rare, fragrant

earnestly. At length he put it down, as if despairing of
success; and, leaning back in his chair, muttered:
'What a fine thing capital punishment is! Dead men never repent;
dead men never bring awkward stories to light. Ah, it's a fine
thing for the trade! Five of 'em strung up in a row, and none
left to play booty, or turn white-livered!'
As the Jew uttered these words, his bright dark eyes, which had
been staring vacantly before him, fell on Oliver's face; the
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