‘This, as you see, is an identity for your cousin, André Valade. Just as Jack got half way down the stairs, and Wild and the Jew reached the upper landing, the street-door was opened by Langley and Ireton, the latter of whom carried a lantern. He’s out in Phoenix last I heard. That wasn’t even the worst thing. I won’t tolerate any foreign tongue in this house, least of all that confounded French. The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. But let that verse tell my secret.
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