" "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. She sings better perhaps. "Perhaps," replied Wood, doubtfully. “Don’t be too sure of that,” she answered enigmatically. "Stop a minute," cried Jack, detaining his mistresses. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. ‘Here she is. Sheppard, with startling eagerness. The packets were hastily broken open; and, while Wood was absorbed in the perusal of the despatch addressed to him by Sir Rowland, Thames sought out, and found the letter which he had been prevented from finishing on the fatal night at Jonathan Wild's. ‘You and Jarvis Remenham both, yes.
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