Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. There's a letter for the head turnkey, Mr. "Ja," answered Van; "at a minut's nodish. Armed, however, with the implement he had so fortunately obtained, he did not despair of success.
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