It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. Jonathan Wild and his bloodhounds, with a hundred others, incited by the reward, will be upon my track. Passing thought. "'Odd's! bodikins!" cried Jack, rubbing his cheek, "I'm in luck to-day. ” “Oh, well!” he said, a little doubtfully, “it’s just a phase,” and bent down and rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment, with his heart beating and his nerves a-quiver.
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