ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. "I've seen him some years ago, I believe," answered Wood; "and, though he must be much changed by this time, I dare say I should know him again. If he succeeds there, I do not know how I can prove myself. But he's witty and amusing, and when reasonably drunk he can play the piano like a Paderewski. And your great-niece. "Don't leave him, if you're at all fearful, my dear," replied Wood, receiving the little burthen with a laugh. "My sight is failing me.
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