" "Save us!" exclaimed Wood. . But she must not laugh. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. ’ Thus adjured, but mindful of Trodger’s orders, the militiaman went down the hall backwards, his eyes fixed on the prisoner. ‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was.
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