<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></SPAN>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
<p>If I were offered my heart's desire in return
for so doing, I could not tell you how I got
home after my interview with Nikola at the
Palace Revecce. I was unconscious of everything
save that I had gone to Nikola's house in the
hope of being able to save the life of a man,
whom I had the best of reasons for hating, and
that at the last moment I had turned coward
and fled the field. No humiliation could have
been more complete. Nikola had won a victory,
and I knew it, and despaired of retrieving it.
On reaching the hotel I was about to disembark
from my gondola, when a voice hailed me from
another craft, proceeding in the direction I had
come.</p>
<p>"Dick Hatteras, as I'm a sinner!" it cried.
"Don't you know me, Dick?"</p>
<p>I turned to see a face I well remembered
smiling at me from the gondola. I immediately
bade my own man put me out into the stream,
which he did, and presently the two gondolas<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</SPAN></span>
lay side by side. The man who had hailed me
was none other than George Beckworth, a
Queensland sugar-planter, with whom I had
been on terms of the most intimate friendship
in bygone days. And as there was a lady
seated beside him, I derived the impression that
he had married since I had last seen him.</p>
<p>"This is indeed a surprise," he said, as we
shook hands. "By the way, let me introduce
you to my wife, Dick." He said this with all
the pride of a newly-married man. "My dear,
this is my old friend, Dick Hatteras, of whom
I have so often spoken to you. What are you
doing in Venice, Dick?"</p>
<p>"I have my wife and some friends travelling
with me," I answered. "We are staying at
Galaghetti's hotel yonder. Cannot you and
your wife dine with us to-night?"</p>
<p>"Impossible, I am afraid," he answered. "We
sail to-night in the P. and O. boat. Won't you
come and dine with us?"</p>
<p>"That is equally impossible," I replied. "We
have friends with us. But I should like to see
something more of you before you go, and if you
will allow me I'll run down after dinner for a
chat about old times."</p>
<p>"I shall be delighted," he answered. "Be
sure that you do not forget it."</p>
<p>Having assured him that I would not permit<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</SPAN></span>
it to escape my memory, I bade him "good-bye,"
and then returned to my hotel. A more fortunate
meeting could scarcely have occurred, for
now I was furnished with an excellent excuse for
leaving my party, and for being alone for a time.
Once more I felt that I was a coward for not
daring to face my fellow-men. Under the circumstances,
however, I knew that it was impossible.
I could no more have spent the
evening listening to Glenbarth's happy laughter
than I could have jumped the Grand Canal. For
the time being the society of my fellow-creatures
was absolutely distasteful to me. On ascending
to my rooms I discovered my wife and the Duke
in the drawing-room, and was informed by the
latter that Miss Trevor had again been compelled
to retire to her room with a severe
headache.</p>
<p>"In that case I am afraid you will only be a
small party for dinner," I said. "I am going to
ask you to excuse me. You have often heard
me speak, my dear, of George Beckworth, the
Queensland sugar-planter, with whom I used to
be on such friendly terms in the old days?"</p>
<p>My wife admitted that she remembered hearing
me speak of the gentleman in question.</p>
<p>"Well, he is in Venice," I replied, "and he
sails to-night by the P. and O. boat for Colombo.
As it is the last time I shall be likely to see him<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</SPAN></span>
for many years, I feel sure you will not mind my
accepting his invitation?"</p>
<p>"Of course not, if the Duke will excuse you,"
she said, and, when the question was put to
him, Glenbarth willingly consented to do so.</p>
<p>I accordingly went to my room to make my
toilet. Then, having bade my wife "good-bye,"
I chartered a gondola and ordered the man to
row me to the piazza of Saint Mark. Thence I
set off for a walk through the city, caring little
in which way I went. It was growing dark by
this time, and I knew there was little chance of
my being recognized, or of my recognizing any one
else. All the time, however, my memory was
haunted by the recollection of that room at the
Palace Revecce, and of what was in all probability
going on in it. My gorge rose at the idea—all
my manhood revolted from it. A loathing of
Nikola, such as I had never known before, was
succeeded by a deathly chill, as I realized how
impotent I was to avert the catastrophe. What
could I do? To have attempted to stay him in
his course would have been worse than useless,
while to have appealed to the Authorities would
only have had the effect of putting myself in
direct opposition to him, and who knew what
would happen then? I looked at it from
another point of view. Why should I be so
anxious to interfere on the wretched Spaniard's<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</SPAN></span>
behalf? I had seen his murderous intention on
the morning of the frustrated duel; I had heard
from Nikola of the assassination of those unfortunate
lads in Equinata; moreover, I was well
aware that he was a thief, and also a traitor to
his country. Why should he not be punished
as he deserved, and why should not Nikola
be his executioner? I endeavoured to convince
myself that this was only fit and proper retribution,
but this argument was no more successful
than the last had been.</p>
<p>Arguing in this way I walked on and on,
turning to right or left, just as the fancy took
me. Presently I found myself in a portion of
the town into which I had never hitherto penetrated.
At the moment of which I am about to
write, I was standing in a narrow lane, paved
with large stones, having high dismal houses on
either hand. Suddenly an old man turned the
corner and approached me. As he passed, I
saw his face, and recognized an individual to
whom Nikola had spoken in the little church on
that memorable evening when he had taken us
on a tour of inspection through the city. He
was visibly agitated, and was moreover in hot
haste. For some reason that I cannot explain,
nor, I suppose, shall I ever be able to do so, an
intense desire to follow him took possession of
me. It must have been more than a desire, for<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</SPAN></span>
I felt that I must go with him whether I wished
to or not. I accordingly dived into the house
after him, and followed him along the passage
and up the rickety flight of stairs that ascended
from it. Having attained one floor we continued
our ascent; the sounds of voices reached us from
the different rooms, but we saw no one. On the
second landing the old man paused before a door,
opened it very softly, and entered. I followed
him, and looked about me. It was a pathetic
scene that met my eyes. The room was a poor
one, and scantily furnished. A rough table
and a narrow bed were its only furniture. On
the latter a young man was lying, and kneeling
on the floor beside him, holding the thin hands
in his own, was no less a person than Doctor
Nikola himself. I saw that he was aware of my
presence, but he took no more notice of me than
if I had not existed.</p>
<p>"You called me too late, my poor Antonio,"
he said, addressing the old man I had followed.
"Nothing can save him now. He was dying
when I arrived."</p>
<p>On hearing this the old man fell on his knees
beside the bed and burst into a flood of weeping.
Nikola placed his hand with a kindly gesture
upon the other's shoulder, and at the moment
that he did so the man upon the bed expired.</p>
<p>"Do not grieve for him, my friend," said<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</SPAN></span>
Nikola. "Believe me, it was hopeless from the
first. He is better as it is."</p>
<p>Then, with all the gentleness of a woman,
he proceeded to comfort the old man, whose
only son lay dead upon the bed. I knew no
more of the story than what I had seen, nor
have I heard more of it since, but I had been permitted
to see another side of his character, and
one which, in the light of existing circumstances,
was not to be denied. He had scarcely finished
his kindly offices before there was a heavy step
outside, and a black-browed priest entered the
room. He looked from Nikola to myself, and
then at the dead man upon the bed.</p>
<p>"Farewell, my good Antonio," said Nikola.
"Have no fear. Remember that your future is
my care."</p>
<p>Then, having said something in an undertone
to the priest, he placed his hand upon my arm
and led me from the room. When we had left
them he murmured in a voice not unlike that in
which he had addressed the old man, "Hatteras,
this is another lesson. Is it so difficult to
learn?"</p>
<p>I do not pretend that I made any answer.
We passed down the stairs together, and, when
we reached the street, stood for a moment at the
house-door.</p>
<p>"You will not be able to understand me," he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</SPAN></span>
said; "nevertheless, I tell you that the end is
brought nearer by that one scene. It will not
be long before it comes now. All things considered,
I do not know that I shall regret it."</p>
<p>Then, without another word, he strode away
into the darkness, leaving me to place what construction
I pleased upon his last speech. For
some moments I stood where he had left me,
pondering over his words, and then set off in the
direction I had come. As may be imagined, I
felt even less inclined than before for the happy,
jovial party I knew I should find on board the
steamer, but I had given my promise, and could
not get out of it. When I reached the piazza
of St. Mark once more I went to the steps and
hailed a gondola, telling the man to take me
to the P. and O. vessel then lying at anchor in
the harbour. He did so, and I made my way up
the accommodation-ladder to the deck above, to
find that the passengers in the first saloon had
just finished their dinner, and were making their
appearance on the promenade deck. I inquired
of the steward for Mr. Beckworth, and discovered
him in the act of lighting a cigar at the smoking-room
door.</p>
<p>He greeted me effusively, and begged me to
remain where I was while he went in search of
his wife. When she arrived, I found her to be
a pretty little woman, with big brown eyes,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</SPAN></span>
and a sympathetic manner. She was good
enough to say that she had heard such a lot
concerning me from her husband, and had always
looked forward to making my acquaintance. I
accepted a cigar from Beckworth's case, and we
then adjourned to the smoking-room for a long
talk together. When we had comfortably installed
ourselves, my friend's flow of conversation
commenced, and I was made aware of all the
principal events that had occurred in Queensland
since my departure, was favoured with his opinion
of England, which he had never before visited,
and was furnished with the details as to how he
had met his wife, and of the happy event with
which their courtship had been concluded.</p>
<p>"Altogether," he said, "taking one thing with
another, I don't know that you'd be able to find
a much happier fellow in the world than I am at
this moment."</p>
<p>I said I was glad to hear it, and as I did so
contrasted his breezy, happy-go-lucky manner
with those of certain other people I had been
brought in contact with that day. My interview
with him must have done me good, for I stayed
on, and the hour was consequently late when I
left the ship. Indeed, it wanted only a few
minutes of eleven o'clock as I went down the
accommodation-ladder to the gondola, which I
had ordered to come for me at ten.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Galaghetti's hotel," I said to the man, "and
as quickly as you can."</p>
<p>When I had bade my friends "good-bye"
and left the ship, I felt comparatively cheerful,
but no sooner had the silence of Venice closed in
upon me again than all my old despondency
returned to me. A foreboding of coming misfortune
settled upon me, and do what I would I
could not shake it off.</p>
<p>When I reached the hotel I found that my
party had retired to rest. My wife was sleeping
quietly, and not feeling inclined for bed, and
dreading lest if I did go I might be assailed by
more dreams of a similar description to that I
had had on the previous night, I resolved to go
back to the drawing-room and read there for a
time. This plan I carried into execution, and
taking up a new book in which I was very much
interested, seated myself in an easy-chair and
determined to peruse it. I found some difficulty,
however, in concentrating my attention upon it.
My thoughts continually reverted to my interview
that afternoon with Nikola, and also to the
scene I had witnessed in the poorer quarter after
dark. I suppose eventually I must have fallen
asleep, for I remember nothing else until I awoke
to find myself sitting up and listening to a light
step in the corridor outside. I looked at my
watch to discover that the time was exactly<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</SPAN></span>
a quarter to one. In that case, as we monopolized
the whole of the corridor, who could it be?
In order to find out I went to the door, and
softly opened it. A dim light was always left
in the passage throughout the night, and by
it I was able to see a tall and graceful figure,
which I instantly recognized, making for the
secondary stairs at the further end. Now these
stairs, so I had been given to understand, led to
another portion of the hotel into which I had
never penetrated. Why, therefore, Miss Trevor
was using them at such an hour, and, above all,
dressed for going out, I could not for the life of
me determine. I could see that, if I was anxious
to find out, I must be quick; so, turning swiftly
into the room again, I picked up my hat and set
off in pursuit. As the sequel will prove, it was,
perhaps, as well that I did so.</p>
<p>By the time I reached the top of the stairs
she was at the bottom, and was speeding along
another passage to the right. At the end of this
was a door, the fastenings of which she undid,
with an ease and assurance that bewildered me.
So certain was she of her whereabouts, and so
easily did she manipulate the heavy door, that I
felt inclined to believe that she must have used
that passage many times before. At last she
opened it and passed out into the darkness,
drawing it to after her. I had paused to watch<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</SPAN></span>
her; now I hastened on even faster than before,
fearing that, if I were not careful, I might lose
her outside. Having passed the door I found
myself in a narrow lane, bounded on either side
by high walls, and some fifty or sixty yards in
extent. The lane, in its turn, opened into a
small square, out of which led two or three other
narrow streets. She turned to the left and
passed down one of these; I followed close upon
her heels. Of all the strange experiences to which
our stay in Venice had given rise, this was certainly
one of the most remarkable. That Gertrude
Trevor, the honest English girl, the daughter
of a dignitary of the Church and a prospective
bishop, should leave her hotel in the middle of
the night in order to wander about streets with
which she was most imperfectly acquainted, was
a mystery I found difficult to solve. When she
had crossed a bridge, which spanned a small canal,
she once more turned to the left, passed along the
footway before a dilapidated palace, and then
entered a narrow passage on the right. The
buildings hereabouts were all large, and, as a
natural consequence, the streets were so dark
that I had some difficulty in keeping her in sight.
As a matter of fact she had stopped, and I was
almost upon her before I became aware of it.
Even then she did not seem to realize my
presence. She was standing before a small door,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</SPAN></span>
which she was endeavouring to push open. At
last she succeeded, and without hesitation began
to descend some steps inside. Once more I took
up the chase, though where we were, and what
we were going to do there, I had not the least
idea. The small yard in which we found ourselves
was stone-paved, and for this reason I
wondered that she did not hear my footsteps. It
is certain, however, that she did not, for she made
for a door I could just discern on the opposite
side to that by which we had entered, without
turning her head. It was at this point that I
began to wish I had brought a revolver or some
weapon with me. When she was about to open
the door I have just mentioned, I called her
softly by name, and implored her to wait for me,
but still she took no notice. Could she be a
somnambulist? I asked myself. But if this
were so, why had she chosen this particular
house? Having passed the door we stood in a
second and larger courtyard, and it was then that
the whole mystery became apparent to me. <i>The
house to which I had followed her was the
Palace Revecce, and she was on her way to
Nikola!</i> But for what reason? Was this a trick of
Nikola's, or had her terrible dreams taken such a
hold upon her that she was not responsible for
her actions? Either alternative was bad enough.
Pausing for a moment in the courtyard beside<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</SPAN></span>
the well, she turned quickly to her right hand
and began to ascend the stairs towards that
awful room, which, so far as I knew, she had never
visited before. When she reached it I scarcely
knew how to act. Should I enter behind her
and accuse Nikola of having enticed her there, or
should I wait outside and overhear what transpired
between them? At last I made up my
mind to adopt the latter course, and, when she
had entered, I accordingly remained outside and
waited for her. Through the half-open door I
could see Nikola, stooping over what looked like
a microscope at a side-table. He looked up as
Miss Trevor entered, and uttered a cry of surprise.
As I heard this a sigh of relief escaped
me, for his action proved to me that her visit
had not been anticipated.</p>
<p>"Miss Trevor!" he said, moving forward to
greet her, "what does this mean? How did you
get here?"</p>
<p>"I have come to you," she faltered, "because
I could not remain away. I have come to
you that I may beg of you that wretched man's
life. Doctor Nikola, I implore you to spare
him!"</p>
<p>"My dear young lady," said Nikola, with a
softness in his voice that reminded me of that
I had heard in the death-chamber a few hours
before, "you cannot understand what you are<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</SPAN></span>
doing. You must let me take you back to your
friends. You should not be here at this hour of
the night."</p>
<p>"But I was bound to come—don't I tell you I
could not remain away? Spare him! Oh! for
God's sake, spare him!"</p>
<p>"You do not know what you are asking.
You are not yourself to-night."</p>
<p>"I only know that I am thinking of you," she
answered. "You must not do it! You are so
great, so powerful, that you can afford to forgive.
Take my life rather than harm him. I will yield
it gladly to save you from this sin."</p>
<p>"To—save—me," I heard him mutter to himself.
"She would save me!"</p>
<p>"God would never forgive," she continued,
still in the same dreamy voice.</p>
<p>He moved away from her, and from where I
stood I could see how agitated he was. For
some moments she knelt, looking up at him,
with arms outstretched in supplication; then he
said something to her in a low voice, which I
could not catch. Her answer, however, was
plain to me.</p>
<p>"Yes, I have known it always in my dreams,"
she said.</p>
<p>"And knowing that, you would still wish me
to pardon him?"</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="i008" name="i008"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/i008.jpg" alt="i008" /> <p class="caption">"She knelt, with arms outstretched, in supplication."</p> </div>
<p>"In the name of God I would urge you to do<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</SPAN></span>
so," she answered. "The safety of your soul
depends upon it."</p>
<p>Once more Nikola turned away and paced the
room.</p>
<p>"Are you aware that Sir Richard Hatteras
was here on the same errand this afternoon?"
he asked.</p>
<p>"I know it," she replied, though how she
could have done so I could not conceive, nor
have I been able to do so since.</p>
<p>"And does he know that you have come to
me now asking me to forgive?"</p>
<p>"He knows it," she answered, as before.
"He followed me here."</p>
<p>As she had never looked behind her, how had
she known this also?</p>
<p>Then Nikola approached the door and threw
it open.</p>
<p>"Come in, Hatteras," he said. "Your presence
is discovered."</p>
<p>"For heaven's sake, Nikola, tell me what this
means," I cried, seeing that the girl did not turn
towards me. "Is she asleep, or have you brought
your diabolical influence upon her?"</p>
<p>"She is not asleep, and yet she is not conscious
of her actions," he answered. "There is
something in this that passes our philosophy.
Had I any idea that she contemplated such a
thing, I would have used every effort to prevent<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</SPAN></span>
it. Miss Trevor, believe me, you must go home
with Sir Richard," he continued, tenderly raising
the girl to her feet as he spoke.</p>
<p>"I cannot go until you have sworn to forgive,"
was her reply.</p>
<p>"I must have time to think," he answered.
"In the morning you will know everything.
Trust me until then, and remember always that
while Nikola lives he will be grateful."</p>
<p>Then he assisted me to conduct her down-stairs,
and across the two courtyards, to the little
postern door through which we had entered the
palace.</p>
<p>"Have no fear for her," he said, addressing
me. "She will go home as she came. And in
the morning she will remember nothing of what
has transpired."</p>
<p>Then taking her hand in his he raised it to
his lips, and a moment later had bade me farewell,
and had vanished into the palace once more.</p>
<p>As I tracked her from the hotel, so I followed
her back to it again. I was none the less
anxious, however. If only Nikola would abandon
his purpose, and release his enemy, her action
and my anxiety would not be in vain. But
would he do so, and in the event of his doing
this, would his prophecy that Miss Trevor would,
in the morning, remember nothing of what had
transpired, prove true?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Turning, twisting as before, we proceeded on
our way. My chief fear was that the door
through which we had made our exit would be
found to be shut on our return. Happily, however,
this did not prove to be the case. I saw
Miss Trevor enter, and then swiftly followed her.
She hastened down the passage, ascended the
stairs, passed along the corridor, and made her
way to her own room. As soon as I had made
certain that she was safely there, I went on to
my own dressing-room, and on entering my
wife's apartment had the good fortune to find
her still asleep. I was still more thankful in the
morning when I discovered she had not missed
me, and being satisfied on this point, I decided
to say nothing whatsoever concerning our adventure.</p>
<p>Miss Trevor was the last to put in an appearance
at breakfast, and, as you may suppose,
I scanned her face with some anxiety. She
looked pale and worn, but it was evident from
her manner when she greeted me, that she had
not the least idea what she had done during
the night. Nikola's promise had proved to be
true, and for that reason I was more determined
than ever to keep my information to myself.
Events could not have turned out more fortunately
for all parties concerned.</p>
<p>Shortly after breakfast a letter was handed to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</SPAN></span>
me, and, glancing at the writing, I saw that it
was from Nikola. I was alone at the time of
receiving it, a fact for which I was grateful. I
will leave you to imagine with what impatience
I opened it. It was short, and merely contained
a request that I would call at the Palace Revecce
before noon that day, if I could spare the hour.
I decided to do so, and I reached the palace
twenty minutes or so before the appointed time.
The old servitor, who by this time had become
familiar with my face, opened the door and
permitted me to enter. I inquired if Doctor
Nikola were at home, and to my surprise was
informed that he was not.</p>
<p>"Perhaps your Excellency would like to see
the other Senor?" the old man asked, pointing
up the stairs.</p>
<p>I was about to decline this invitation with all
possible haste, when a voice I recognized as that
of the Don greeted me from the gallery above.</p>
<p>"Won't you come up-stairs, Sir Richard?" it
said. "I have a letter for you, from my friend,
Doctor Nikola!"</p>
<p>I could scarcely believe the evidence of my
eyes and ears, and when I reached the room of
which I had such terrible recollections, my surprise
was intensified rather than lessened. Martinos
had undergone a complete metamorphosis.
In outward appearance he was no longer the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</SPAN></span>
same person, who only the day before had filled
me with such terrible repulsions. If such a thing
could be believed, he was more like his old self—as
I had first seen him.</p>
<p>"Where is Doctor Nikola?" I inquired, when
I had looked round the room and noticed the
absence of the chemical paraphernalia, the multitude
of books, and the general change in it.</p>
<p>"He went away early this morning," the Don
replied. "He left a letter for you, and requested
me to give it you as soon as you should call. I
have much pleasure in doing so now."</p>
<p>I took it and placed it almost mechanically in
my pocket.</p>
<p>"Are you aware when he will return?" I
asked.</p>
<p>"He will never do so," Martinos replied. "I
heard the old man below wailing this morning,
because he had lost the best master he had ever
had."</p>
<p>"And you?"</p>
<p>"I am ruined, as you know," he said, without
any reference to his illness, "but the good
doctor has been good enough to place twenty
thousand lira to my credit, and I shall go elsewhere
and attempt to double it."</p>
<p>He must have been much better, for he smiled
in the old deceitful way as he said this.
Remembering what I knew of him, I turned<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</SPAN></span>
from the man in disgust, and bidding him good-day,
left the room which I hoped never to see
again as long as I might live. In the courtyard
I encountered the old caretaker once more.</p>
<p>"So the Senor Nikola has gone away never
to return?" I said.</p>
<p>"That is so, Senor," said the old man with a
heavy sigh. "He has left me a rich man, but I
do not like to think that I shall never see him
again."</p>
<p>Sitting down upon the edge of the well I took
from my pocket the letter the Don had handed
me.</p>
<blockquote><p>"Farewell, friend Hatteras," it began. "By
the time you receive this I shall have left
Venice, never more to set foot in it. We shall
not meet again. I go to the Fate which claims
me, and of which I told you. Think of me
sometimes, and, if it be possible, with kindness,</p>
<p class="deepind">
"<span class="smcap">Nikola</span>."<br/></p>
</blockquote>
<p>I rose and moved towards the door, placing a
gold piece in the old man's hand as I passed him.
Then, with a last look at the courtyard, I went
down the steps and took my place in the
gondola, with a feeling of sadness in my heart
for the sad Destiny of the most wonderful man
I had ever known.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</SPAN></span></p>
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