He had an objective now. "There it is!" cried Sir James, eagerly. How I wish I might meet this delightful mystery lady of yours. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. "I've known several cases where the ignominious doom I've mentioned has been foretold by such an accident as has just befallen you.
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