“Have you dropped from the skies?” Sydney asked wonderingly. “If you wish,” he said, “I will go there in the morning and see what can be done for him. Earles. "The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted. What is it?" "Is there anything I can do?" The idiocy of the question filled him with the craving of laughter. "Devilish strange!" thought he, chuckling to himself; "queer business! Capital trick of the cull in the cloak to make another person's brat stand the brunt for his own—capital! ha! ha! Won't do, though.
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