He spent the remainder of the afternoon looking for a friend whom he found at last in the billiard room of one of the smaller clubs to which he belonged. What's the idea of the black border?" "My father recently died, sir. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. They negotiated several steps, and then the stair turned a corner. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy.
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