I’ve got too much work. Wood fancied he heard the exulting laugh of Jonathan Wild. At the first glance, he imagined he must have stumbled upon a museum of rarities, there were so many glass-cases, so many open cabinets, ranged against the walls; but the next convinced him that if Jonathan was a virtuoso, his tastes did not run in the ordinary channels. He wondered if these abnormal mental activities presaged illness. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. Slipshod; follow me.
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