‘You ain’t got nothing on me. But it was her proof. Jonathan nodded assent. But it was clear she was in no mood for Teddys. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. They steal over to Copeley's at night and dispose of the pearl for cash. “I don’t know how to prove myself to you, John.
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