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He was dressed in the black clothes of a Spanish judge. On his round face there was always a smile like that which hangs around the jaws of a pike only more humorous. He bowed a little exaggeratedly to me and said: "Ah, ye are that famous Mr. Kemp." I said that I imagined him the more famous Señor Juez O'Brien. "It's little use saying ye arren't famous," he said.
He was a Scotchman; a big and rugged man, all lines and whiskers and with a rugged accent. He said, "You'rre her mother, arren't ye? Where's her father?" "He's coming. Where is my child?" The doctor jerked his head towards a wall. "She's yon." "Tell me, please." He pushed a chair towards her but she shook her head. "Please tell me." "Ye'll want your courage." He again indicated the chair.
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