The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain. An immediate halt took place. He had meant to come at his business in a roundabout way, but for that little slip. Gerald, I mean, not Madame Valade.
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