Surely it was a dream. "You want me, then?" she said. " "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt. She is called Madame Ibstock, you understand. . . Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea.
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