But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast. "Shoot him! shoot him! Put him out of hish mishery," cried the Jew. A sense of loss was amongst us. He drew a little breath and stepped back. He seemed to deliberate. . ‘I don’t want a hue and cry after me, I thank you.
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