"If the best nag ever foaled were to throw me in this unlucky spot, I'd blow his brains out. The flicker of an eyelash might betray his presence. He had the appearance of a man who has known no rest for many nights. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. The sergeant had not seen it for he understood nothing of what she told him. " "Well, Sir, his name?" "Jonathan Wild.
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