It's of no use. I'll call for you this afternoon when Wu is on. Purney's hand-writing," said Jack, advancing, "and can at once decide whether this is a forgery or not. Perhaps I ought to have let you order the dinner, but I think I got through it pretty well. I can get that at the bar," the manager said, curtly. His mother smiled in return, an act that brightened her thin face. 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.
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