"I half suspect this is a highwayman," thought the Jew; "he's so ready with his cash. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. I have suffered him to be brought up decently—honestly; because I would make his fall the greater, and deepen the wound I meant to inflict upon his mother. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. You had better let me go again. Nothing has been touched since. \" He piped up. Above the housetops it was different. “Tut, tut!” he said. ” “We’ve come past it, miss,” the man answered, with a note of finality in his gruff voice. I'll go alone.
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