Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. “I gave your name. Norris says she's dying. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required. Then all the embarrassments of the matter flashed in upon her.
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