"Your son's father was a thief; and Jonathan Wild (unless I'm misinformed,) was his friend,—so it's not unnatural he should show some partiality towards Jack. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. It was instantly burst open, when the horrible stench that issued from it convinced them that it must be a receptacle for the murdered victims of the thief-taker. ” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. Set on unravelling her secrets, Gerald pursues every possible clue—much to the indignation of Mademoiselle. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again.
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