"But, where's the strange gentleman I saw under the table?" "Under the table!" echoed Blueskin, winking at Jack. The biological laboratory had an atmosphere that was all its own. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. The floor was strewn with screws, nails, fragments of wood and stone, and across the passage lay the heavy iron fillet. " "Do you happen to know Jonathan Wild, master?" inquired Jack, altering his tone, and assuming a more respectful demeanour. He began to tell me something—and stopped.
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