‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. Capes sat down in the armchair beside her. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. To his relief, she nodded. When Jack came to speak of Jonathan Wild, his countenance fell. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known. They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight. “So Brendon and I,” he said, “have been troubled with the same fears.
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