He had brought the shrubs down from Syria, and, strangely enough, they had prospered. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. “Serves you right if I’d cracked your skull. " "Here's a pocket-book full of notes, and a heavy bag of gold," said Blueskin, examining the articles on the floor. " "I will go, if you will consent to meet me at midnight near the old house in Wych Street," replied Jack.
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