It’s these damned novels. I was sitting up, lamenting your departure, dear Thames, when, hearing an odd noise, I went to the landing, and, by the light of a dark lantern, saw Jack Sheppard, stealing up stairs, followed by two men with crape on their faces. “We have no airs and graces here, and my hat hangs from a peg in the passage. ’ ‘But what have I done?’ protested Gerald innocently.
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