I gave him a dose of syrup of buckthorn,
and put him on a diet of pot-liquor and vegetables till further orders.
Excuse my mentioning this. It has slipped in somehow. Pass it over
please. I am fast coming to the end of my offences against your
cultivated modern taste. Besides, the dog was a good creature, and
deserved a good physicking; he did indeed.
Saturday, the last day of the week, is also the last day in my
narrative.
The morning's post brought me a surprise in the shape of a London
newspaper. The handwriting on the direction puzzled me. I compared it
with the money-lender's name and address as recorded in my pocket-book,
and identified it at once as the writing of Sergeant Cuff.
Looking through the paper eagerly enough, after this discovery, I found
an ink-mark drawn round one of the police reports. Here it is, at your
service. Read it as I read it, and you will set the right value on the
Sergeant's polite attention in sending me the news of the day:
"LAMBETH--Shortly before the closing of the court, Mr. Septimus Luker,
the well-known dealer in ancient gems, carvings, intagli, &c., &c.,
applied to the sitting magistrate for advice.
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