" "Here you have it, my dear," returned the hawker. “I suppose all life is an affair of chances. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. He rested on one elbow. Ah!" he exclaimed, as his eye fell upon a small knob in the wall, "there's the spring!" He touched it, and the door flew open. He picked up the broken fiddle and beckoned.
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