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At eight o'clock that evening two persons were groping their way past Flint Buckner's cabin in the frosty gloom. They were Sherlock Holmes and his nephew. "Stop here in the road a moment, uncle," said Fetlock, "while I run to my cabin; I won't be gone a minute." He asked for something the uncle furnished it then he disappeared in the darkness, but soon returned, and the talking-walk was resumed.
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