"It is Sheppard—Jack Sheppard—stop him!" And his shouts were reiterated by the pack of bloodhounds at his heels. There was, in fact, only one clear thought in his fevered brain: he had reached the hotel without falling down. “I think that’s the right name. As it is, I'm not sorry for the blunder. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. I saw him ride away with that other fellow.
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