. It’s gone. Jack, meanwhile, heard, the shouts, and, though alarmed by them, held on a steady course. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. She saw the Chamberlain girls getting into a plethora of different cars (with barely a stitch on) with young men who seemed unnaturally excited about their first “dates”. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. "A capital instrument for my purpose," thought Jack, shouldering it, "and worth all the trouble I have had in procuring it. He sent me home.
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