And, if I can render you any service, you may command me. " "What should I retract, villain?" cried the woollen-draper, who at the sound of Jack's voice had regained his confidence. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. Here goes. “Permit me to offer you the English paper which has just arrived, Sir John,” he said, holding out a Daily Telegraph. Because of the Dance. William Kneebone was a woollen-draper of "credit and renown," whose place of business was held at the sign of the Angel (for, in those days, every shop had its sign), opposite Saint Clement's church in the Strand. I’ve made no mention of guns and daggers or, indeed, any of the more exciting aspects of the business. None at all.
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