When the carpenter a moment afterwards stretched out his hand, scarcely knowing whether he was alive or dead, he found himself alone. It made her laugh, which in turn made him laugh. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened. "What's that to you?" demanded Jonathan, gruffly. He let go of the girl’s arm. "And equally easy to prove it," replied Jack, giving him the paper he had abstracted from Wild. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same.
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