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At least I rather hoped I might spend my time chasing smugglers, which would have afforded some excitement. Entering London, he bent his way towards the west-end; and having some knowledge of a secondhand tailor's shop in Rupert Street, proceeded thither, and looked out a handsome suit of mourning, with a sword, cloak, and hat, and demanded the price. “How’d you know it was me?” He looked conspiratorially into the room for hidden informants. "It's a great world," was the manager's greeting. .
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