A drunken idea, Ah Cum had called it. "I hear you plotting with your wicked associates," cried Mrs. Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically. " "Could I credit your wild story, I might do so," returned Thames, with a look of perplexity. Finally, at the exit into Regent’s Park, they ran against Miss Klegg.
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