"I vent to de New Prish'n, and on wishitin' his shel vid de turnkey, vot should ve find but de shains on de ground, de vinder broken, and Jack and Agevorth Besh gone. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. “And I have dragged you all over here for nothing,” she murmured. "Suppose he does. He's coming. They took their places at a distant table. The last piece was Scheherazade.
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