"The poor things!" The manager laughed. "And so we're to be summoned from our beds and snug firesides, because a kid happens to squall, eh? By the soul of my grandmother, but this is too good!" "Do you intend to claim the privileges of the Mint?" said Jonathan, calmly pursuing his interrogations amid the uproar. ‘She hasn’t said so, but I presume Valade had got hold of all the useful papers,’ Gerald went on. So strongly was he impressed with this idea, that grasping the iron bar with both hands, he dashed it furiously against the door, making the passage echo with the blows. Then to Martin's brandy-shop, in Fleet Street.
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