At length, the body was brought towards him. On searching the coat, he found, amongst other matters, a mask, a key, and a pocket-book. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen. She broke this promise when she told me that my mother was this Mary, and not Suzanne Valade at all. This getting up at dawn—real dawn—and working until seven was a distinct novelty. Cursing himself for his inertness, Jack soon shook off this drowsiness, and set to work in earnest.
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