Nevertheless, Sir John had the look of a man who was enjoying himself. He was scarcely concealed when he heard the horsemen, who perceived they had overshot their mark, ride back. “You, anyhow, don’t deserve it,” he said. The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. ‘You think I am like that Valade? No, a thousand times.
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