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If I remember it I'll speak to my sergeant, Javier Gua: he performs such an errand to a nicety. I have taken a dislike to you, very unreasonably, for you are no more than a camarone. I believe, for all your appearance of money, that La Clavel supports you; it is her doblons, I am certain, you gamble away and spend for food."
If I bet on the black, it turns up; and when I choose the red, affairs are red." Santacilla's uneasy eyes shifted over him suspiciously. "Blood and death, that is what black and red are," he said. "But you are not the dispenser of fate." The peak of his cockaded hat threw a shadow over his sanguine face to the chin. "A camarone," he repeated, "a stalk of celery.
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