Remarking that they struck off at a turning on the left, he took the same road, and soon found himself on Paddington-Green. ‘Not where we’re going. "Fly!" cried Jack; "escape if you can; don't mind me. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. I'm no mollycoddle. But, egad! I believe he will. Battle, murder, and sudden death—and an old chap like McClintock tuning his piano in the midst of it.
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