confidently depended upon my ventriloquial abilities; for their effect, I
counted upon the conscience of the murderous wretch.

I believe there is nothing more to be explained. Mr. Pennifeather was
released upon the spot, inherited the fortune of his uncle, profited by
the lessons of experience, turned over a new leaf, and led happily ever
afterward a new life.

~~~ End of Text ~~~

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WHY THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN WEARS HIS HAND IN A SLING

IT'S on my visiting cards sure enough (and it's them that's all o' pink
satin paper) that inny gintleman that plases may behould the intheristhin
words, "Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, 39 Southampton Row, Russell
Square, Parrish o' Bloomsbury." And shud ye be wantin' to diskiver who is
the pink of purliteness quite, and the laider of the hot tun in the houl
city o' Lonon -- why it's jist mesilf. And fait that same is no wonder at
all at all (so be plased to stop curlin your nose), for every inch o' the
six wakes that I've been a gintleman, and left aff wid the bogthrothing to
take up wid the Barronissy, it's Pathrick that's been living like a houly
imperor, and gitting the iddication and the graces. Och! and wouldn't it
be a blessed thing for your spirrits if ye cud lay your two peepers jist,
upon Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, when he is all riddy drissed for
the hopperer, or stipping into the Brisky for the drive into the Hyde
Park. But it's the illigant big figgur that I ave, for the rason o' which
all the ladies fall in love wid me. Isn't it my own swate silf now that'll
missure the six fut, and the three inches more nor that, in me stockins,