One of his chair coolies had witnessed the transportation of Spurlock by stretcher to the sampan in the canal. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. Now, Sir. “No, it was simple. Mr. “Excuse me a moment. It’s no good hiding it any more. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites.
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