'Why the plague don't you make the scoundrel, Jekyl, pay? His
mother's dead only t'other day, and he must be full of money. I've
scarce a marvedy in hand, now; so let him have a writ in his, drat
him. About that certificate, I'm almost sorry I signed it. I've bin
thinking 'tis like enough I may be troubled about it. So you may
tell 'em I know no more only what is there avouched. No more I do.
He played at a faro-table here, and made a very pretty figure. But
I hear now from Lord Orland that there are many bad reports of him.
He was the chief witness against that rogue, Lord Dunoran, who
swallowed poison in Newgate, and, they say, leaned hard against
him, although he won much money of him, and swore with a
blood-thirsty intention. But that is neither here nor there; I mean
ill reports of his rogueries at play, and other doings, which, had
I sooner known, my name had not bin to the paper. So do not make a
noise about it, and maybe none will ask for't. As for Jack Jekyl,
why not take the shortest way with him. You're very pitiful
fellows; but I wish o' my conscience you'd take some pity o' me,
and not suffer me to be bubbled,' &c.
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