As Jack conjectured, no one was there, and, though a lamp was burning on a stand, they decided upon proceeding without it. “Look here, Ann Veronica,” he began. “I’ve tried to make words tell it. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. The job is easy. I don't know whose brainless head it may be, but it'll do for my collection.
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