"Hist!" exclaimed Jack. Gosse cursed him finely, of course, but there was nothing he could do. Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. But about his unknown rival he was acutely curious. He was mad. "It's very well you haven't crushed the poor little thing to death with this confounded clothes'-bag. Stanley, and paused.
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