Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him. Evidently Ah Cum's luck had held good. In this spy theory, however, he had no faith whatsoever. "I believe he's gone," he said, returning to Jonathan. I slaved over it, contacted half a dozen genealogy groups and came up with zilch. "A storm!" exclaimed the landlord. So I dare say I was christened Jack.
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