There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. " "Where are the assassins?" cried Sheppard. “I fail to see the joke,” Sir John said. While this was taking place, another and more serious interruption occurred. He looked like an animated skeleton that someone had hung a smelly 105 brown beard upon. "He left an envelope with some money in it.
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