. A drunken idea, Ah Cum had called it. I was the last on board. The Jew swallowed it at a draught. " "What do you mean, Sir?" asked Trenchard. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. These fellows must be right,” he added thoughtfully, “and yet—there’s a mystery somewhere. I will not be sent away.
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