That wasn’t even the worst thing. '" As the signal was given, the Jew, who had been some time in expectation of it, darted swiftly and silently behind Sir Rowland, and flung a cloth over his head, while Jonathan, rushing upon him in front, struck him several quick and violent blows in the face with the bludgeon. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. At this time of day the priest would be at his apartments in Brewer Street, a short walk away from Golden Square which the building overlooked. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe.
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