“John?” He turned around in the recliner. ‘No, no, Jacques, you have done very right. Even to my own brother—if I had one—I could not tell everything, and you, although you are so kind, you are almost a stranger, aren’t you?” “No, no!” he protested. The hansom sped through the crowded streets. "Well, you women are forgiving creatures, I must say," observed Jonathan, sarcastically. A week later the manuscript was polished and typewritten, ready for the test. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not. "Devilish strange!" thought he, chuckling to himself; "queer business! Capital trick of the cull in the cloak to make another person's brat stand the brunt for his own—capital! ha! ha! Won't do, though. You should have confided in me, and fallen in with my plan at the beginning. They were so nearly alike that the difference would be due to a shaky hand.
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