Sc. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. But that instinct is severely dampened most of the time. ‘I’m not going to arrest you, young Jack—yet. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. We shall have Mr. S. I met you here as Lady Ferringhall.
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