CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. He embraced her fully. The important secret remained locked in my breast, but I resolved to be avenged.
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