Produce them!" "Never!" replied Kneebone. "Who, then?" demanded Jack. It was the size of my palm. "These writer chaps are queer birds. “Leave them!” He yelled. Unconscious that his movements were watched, Shotbolt, meanwhile, hastened towards Wych Street. "Stay!" cried Wood, "this is a most perplexing business—if you really are privy to the affair——" "We'll talk of it to-morrow, Sir," returned Jackson, cutting him short. "This she-devil has got hold of the sack. He was accustomed to such surprises, and enjoyed them. ’ He turned to Melusine, ignoring the indignant protest that greeted his words.
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