"I want you for the job I spoke of a short time ago, Nab," he said. The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn. He answered with the greatest assurance, that he knew nothing whatever of the matter—had seen no pocket-book, and no associate to give up. The gong will go at seven-thirty. For five minutes he has been trying to think of something to say. Beautiful sculptures of sugar and almond paste decorated the long tables, delicate replicas of flowers and miniature animals, even a small Palazzo sculpted from cakes graced the table.
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