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"But there will be no trouble of any kind," added the first lieutenant. "We are not carrying sail, and I shall quietly give the word to the quartermaster to make the course west instead of east. Flint is the only man on board who is at all likely to question the regularity of the proceedings on board; and I do not see how he can do it, for he knows nothing at all about the orders under which we are sailing. In fact, we shall be on the other tack before the time comes to open the sealed envelope."

āđ€āļ§āđ‡āļš āđāļ—āļ‡ āļšāļ­āļĨ āļŠ āđ‚āļš āđ€āļšāđ‡ āļ• In fact, in less than an hour he said he was entirely relieved from the severe pain. He was very grateful to the doctor, whom no one suspected of being a Yankee gunboat officer. "But I have no uniform, Captain Passford," suggested the appointee. Like the other male occupants of the house, the lieutenant was provided with a night-key. For one who had only just developed a tolerably thriving mustache, Christy was a prudent and methodical young gentleman. As a part of his method, he had a great many small drawers in his rooms, and a dozen or more keys; but he had never lost them, for the reason that he carried them chained to his nether garment. But he had two sets of keys, one for the house, and one for the ship. He had taken the night-key from the former, and put it in his vest pocket; and when he 20 reached the front door of the mansion, the key he wanted was in his chamber, and he had been careful to shut the door when he left the house.

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