"You're a gentleman," he said, "leastways I s'pose you calls yourself
such--p'raps you'll act like one."
"Kindly make haste and tell me what you want, my good fellow," said
Adrien impatiently. He did not know but that this was a preliminary to
an attempt to rob him, and he was in no mood for a brawl.
"Oh, I'll be quick enough for you," was the sullen reply. "You don't
remember me, you say; p'raps you'll remember my name--Wilfer--Johann
Wilfer."
"Johann Wilfer," repeated Adrien, thoughtfully and slowly, wondering
where he had heard the name before.
"Yes, Johann Wilfer, Picture Restorer, Cracknell Court, Soho."
"Oh!" said Adrien, as a burst of memory dawned on him. "I remember you
now. What is it you want? But tell me first, has the girl Jessica
returned yet?"
"That's just like you swells," growled the man. "Nothing like getting
your word in first. Has she returned to me? You know jolly well she
ain't. She won't come back to me till you've done with 'er, I'll be
bound."
Adrien started, as the significance of the accusation dawned on him. He
had thought more than once of the girl, with her dark eyes and silken
hair.
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