"A good idea!" exclaimed the carpenter. "Swear that you will do this," she cried. "Coming!—so is midnight—so is Jonathan Wild," retorted Jack, with a significant look at Thames. White, my landlady, believes his story. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. " "I imagine I've been in a kind of trance. .
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